Equilibrium
by Borath
Summary: Megatron forces a sparkling on Optimus in the hopes that their offspring will be powerful enough to end the war. Despite the Autobot's concerns, he fights to keep it. Mpreg, Optimus/Megatron, eventually Optimus/Ironhide with mechslash
1. Chapter 1

I don't own _Transformers_, and I'm fudging my facts here from the various incarnations and what I've read. Forgive the mistakes for the sake of enjoying the story.

* * *

Equilibrium

_Chapter 1_

His intakes shuddered and expelled dirty smoke on the exhale, smelling of burnt lubricant and burning wires. Which wasn't unexpected as that's what a significant portion of his chest circuits were now. Ratchet's hands and forearm plates were covered in the leaking fluids, the result of tubes rupturing as he prised apart armour and metallic viscera.

Optimus sat with his back against a rolled and wrecked fire truck, one spinning tyre still burning on their only defence against the battle taking place. Ratchet's prophetic warning about this happening at the most dangerous time it possibly could had been apt, and the Autobot leader didn't relish the fact that once the medic was done he'd have to get straight up and bolt. As it was this was as far as he'd been able to get away from the actual fight before his body seized with pain and effort too great to ignore.

"This isn't-it's still too soon," Ratchet shouted to him over a fresh round of explosions, and what sounded like another building giving way. He withdrew his hands, ropes of fluid linking them. "You have to wait."

His shout back was fuelled with a fresh wave of agony, his spark throbbing anew. "There isn't time!" Under his glare Ratchet grudgingly returned his digits to his chest, muttering inaudibly. Optimus shuttered his optics as if it would help block out the sensation, tapping into his communication array. "Ironhide, report."

"Starscream's taking a bath and Bee's down."

"How bad?"

"Slag it, Optimus - Ratchet's staying with you."

The feed cut out before he could respond, and Optimus opened his optics when he felt something finally 'give'. Ratchet's gaze met his, tight with concentration and concern. "I'm gonna try moving the Matrix, but I won't if the sparkling's in distress. How does it feel?"

He looked down at himself, mouth a grimace behind the faceplate as he focussed inwards on the other spark, throbbing so hot against his own. How did it feel?

It felt like coming full circle.

* * *

"Tell me: how does it feel, Prime?"

The title was drawled and spat down at him, slipping through the dark and dust-filled air. His title. His identity. That to which he had sacrificed everything to honour and uphold, and gladly. The title meant a duty to unite, to resolve, to guide. At this moment, with the collapsed building bearing hot and heavy around this tight cavern of girders and brick, he hated it. It was his lineage that had gotten him into this… situation.

But then, it always got in his vents that way whenever Megatron said it. Particularly when it was with this degree of scubeness, which hadn't been often.

Optimus's optics shuttered briefly, but it did nothing for the view. His vision was filled with darkness, a faint outline of Megatron's form and the wide girder that penetrated through his chest and into the floor, cleaving his left thigh plates open. None of it hurt as much as the tear over his spark chamber, though, where components had been torn out to make room for something new, which the Decepticon had forced inside without finesse. Held seated by the piercing metal, Optimus looked to the Decepticon's optics. "I'll rip out your spark and show you."

A low laugh and Optimus shifted a little, testing to see if anything would give enough to let him up. What made this –infinitely- worse was that it was not the extensive damage or the position of powerless that Megatron was asking him about. The girder had been a violently installed practicality to keep him still, trapped with the Decepticon leader beneath the crumbled building.

They both knew what the lingering question was regarding: the new spark chamber welded against his own inside his butchered chest. And Megatron was genuinely interested to know what that new life felt like.

"How does it feel?"

This time Optimus said nothing, metal groaning as he tried again to free himself from the piercing girder. There was the sound of debris shifting and crunching before Starscream's unmistakable voice slid through the dark.

"Megatron, the Autobots are coming."

"Excellent. Do not engage them. We head back."

Optimus waited for Starscream's inevitable protest, or to rage, or to just go off and fight anyway, but the jet did not. To his surprise, there was a rev of assent and Megatron suddenly loomed over him. The girder twisted as he took it in his large hands, and he roared when it was unceremoniously pulled up and out of him. Sliding sideways, he watched Megatron pull aside parts of the 'ceiling' to pour daylight into their cavern, doubtless to make it easier for him to be found.

"Are you certain this will work?" Starscream asked as he climbed up after his master. "They could just as easily kill it."

Megatron answered looking at Prime, smiling. "They couldn't. It wouldn't be in his nature to let them." His voice took on a tone that Optimus hadn't heard before. "I'll see you in two orns to collect."

Minutes of near silence passed. Optimus's world seemed to shrink to the rattling in his air filters and the steady warm pulse of the new spark's presence against his own. At first he hadn't known what it was – had had no idea that this was what Megatron intended when he backed him into the lobby and promptly detonated carefully pre-placed explosions on the support pillars, bringing the place crashing down around them. Couldn't have guessed any possible reason for the Decepticon wanting them cut off and isolated in a makeshift cell. Then he'd had a girder punched through him to keep him down, which had cut off his wonderings.

There had be no cannon, indeed no violence after Megatron had torn open his pectoral plates, reaching into his spark chamber. The electrical charge had lashed out around his hand as he'd tried to drive his body back and away, but it hadn't helped. After he'd torn his arm motors and a raw handful of non-essential components out, Megatron had reached into his own chest and withdrawn a slither of light. Now he knew it was a spark, barely a day old but strong. He'd watched, helpless, as it went into his own chest, latching onto his own spark chamber.

Such a small thing but impossible not to notice. It was disconcerting and new, but not unpleasant. Pure despite where it had come from. It occupied his whole attention, dragging him into a reverie an inch long and a centimetre wide.

Then, Bumblebee's voice shattered the air.

"I've found him! Get Ratchet!"

* * *

I only know that I offlined because my CPU reported it. Two breems. It felt like blinking, and now I keep my optics closed as I let my sensors tell me more. My shoulder motors have been replaced, probably the same ones I had before beaten back into shape from how they ache, much like my chest. But the pain is forgettable for the sake of what throbs deeper. It's established itself already, woven in around my spark to become a part of me.

"Well if that's how it is, why haven't you ripped it out yet?" Ironhide, as impassioned as ever following conflict. I can imagine him at the end of this berth, feet spaced in a battle-ready stance. He stays charged up far longer than necessary, armour still flared though he doesn't realise it.

"It's not as simple as that, and I don't want to do anything until Prime's online." Ratchet sounds... odd. His tone isn't one I recognise, though I know the sound of the wrench he throws in my direction perfectly well. "Which I know you are, oh fearless leader."

I open my optics with a sigh, already wearied from the conversation that hasn't happened yet. And the new drain on my system. Sitting up, I swing my legs to sit on the edge of the berth, gripping it when my joints grind from the rubble dust trapped inside. Ratchet's hand is on my shoulder, preventing me from getting up and tearing open the fresh welds on my chest and leg.

Though I know full well what he's concerned with, my concerns as Prime lie elsewhere. "Were there any casualties?"

"Aside from you?" the medic snaps, though the edge in his voice is missing. "No."

"The 'cons took off when Megatron crawled out of that building he pulled down on you, and the only way they could have made it any more obvious that he wanted us to find you would have been to put a location flare over your head." Ironhide, my oldest friend and comrade, moves to stand beside me as if he doesn't know where to look. "Optimus, I-"

I put a hand to his arm, trying to convey what I don't particularly feel. There's not exactly been much time to adjust. "I'm alright, Ironhide."

He shakes his head and finally looks at me, optics hot. "I swear, I'll do everything but kill him for what he did to you."

Ah. I realise that he mistakenly believes there to have been a defilement when the reality is nowhere near as bad. One look confirms that Ratchet believes the same, and I regard them both seriously. "There wasn't – it's not as bad as you think."

Ironhide's engine rumbles at a pitch I know well. Irritation and frustration, though it's not often directed at me. He's struggling. "You are with sparkling."

I'm glad for the mask shielding my reaction to that frank statement. "It would seem so."

He rolls his optics and backs away with folded arms, moving to face away from me. His shoulders flare even more, and Ratchet steps past him. "Prime, I can't allow this. I can't begin to comprehend why-"

"Because it's going to be strong," I break in, shifting as new aches make themselves known. I feel massively overclocked and overwhelmed by circumstance, but then Ironhide and Ratchet are finding it even harder to process. Freshly reminded, my tone is level. "My lineage as Prime, Megatron's own strengths, they produce a powerful sparkling. But there was no spark-merge," I add for Ironhide's benefit. To my relief he turns, posture relaxing a little.

Ratchet's extrapolated what's happened, optics turning distant as he accesses the infrequently-used information. It's been so long since there were sparklings among us. "He budded a habloid spark and attached it to your own spark chamber, where it bonded and began absorption." His optics refocus on me. "I cannot remove it, but I can render it… inert. It'll be disassembled and reabsorbed into your own systems."

"No," I snap back with more weight than I'd expected. Apparently I've already become protective of its wellbeing. "It's staying where it is, and it's going to live."

"But Optimus, there was no choice," Ironhide bites, all emphasis loaded on that last word.

"But there is now. And it remains - with my consent." It's obvious that it's that this was forced on me that is riling Ironhide more than that the spark is from Megatron, which I understand. If our roles were reversed, I would find my anger rooted in the same place. But this isn't something to be angry about, and convincing them of that is an uphill battle. "Our numbers are so few. Every spark is precious, no matter where it comes from."

Ironhide rumbles grudgingly, his scarred face tight with concern. "What do well tell the others?"

"Nothing. This is a medical matter," Ratchet cuts in, apparently offended by the thought of confidentiality being breached.

"Frag's sake, Ratchet, they're gonna notice."

"Ironhide's right, and soon in battle I will be," I search for an apt word that doesn't sting too greatly, "compromised."

Ratchet snorts, instinctively picking up a welding arc. I'm certain that sometimes he picks up his instruments of threat without realising it. "You think you're going anywhere near the Decepticons like this?"

I find myself smiling a little, albeit bitterly. "If anything this will be an asset." Ironhide understands but Ratchet still looks intent on welding my feet to the berth. "Megatron will not want this sparkling harmed. That's why he wanted me back here, with the best medic keeping things running smoothly."

He scowls, folding his arms. "Flattery will get you nowhere. But you're right: you're going to need near-constant maintenance from the way it's growing already."

The next admission is difficult to say, a darkness on the horizon. "He said that he would be back in two orns to take it."

"My aft – let him try."

I look to Ironhide grateful for the support, though it is still obvious that he does not approve. This is his protective nature – the bodyguard in him. Ratchet makes a low sound of assent, and he's committed as well. "Thank you. For now, we say as little as possible. No one's to know that this… donation is Megatron's, and it would be best to keep this from the humans as well."

"What about Sam and Mikaela?" Ratchet asks, finally setting down the welding arc and producing a multi-tool from his fingers.

"They'd find out somehow – tell them, but as little as the others. Doubtless Sam would find the sparkling's parentage as troubling as Bumblebee would, and likely the twins."

"Right. Ironhide, clear out and break the news." I repress a flinch at his choice of phrase, and then again as he approaches me with the array of micro-welders and snips. "I've got a sparkling to make room for."

"Make room? Ratchet, I'm a great deal larger than every femme I've ever met."

"Yes, but you're a lot denser." At Ironside's chuckle, the medic slaps the back of his head without restraint. "I'll need to make room beneath your spark chamber so that it doesn't completely displace it as it grows. You'll be sacrificing most of your backup systems until it's out, so I want you recharging when I tell you to and in here the second I want you to be."

That sounds horribly impractical. "Ratchet…"

"Don't argue with me on this one," he snaps back, stabbing a finger into my chest directly over the sparkling to underline his point. "My priority is keeping you running. Do as I say, because like it or not your life is going to change. Has changed. Paperwork is going to pile up, duties are going to get delegated, and you are going to put yourself on my table as often as I want you to anyway. Understood?"

I nod and run a hand across my face, pinching the space between my optics. Megatron's handiwork didn't have comfort in mind, and my systems feel tainted somehow, full of rough impurities suggesting that a scrubber's out somewhere. No doubt the least of my physical ailments.

Ratchet's optics flash with a scan, and he gestures for Ironhide to leave. Once the dark mech's gone, he gestures with the handful of tools. "Megatron did a hack job," he grouses, as if insulted to be cleaning up the mess. "Get on your back and I'll fix you up. You'll probably want to be offline for this."

The thought of being unaware whilst Ratchet works around the sparkling causes a flash of panic, even though I've always trusted him implicitly. "No. Leave me conscious."

He pauses and regards me seriously, momentarily absent of his usual attitude. "I'll do everything I can to keep from jeopardising the sparkling now I know you want to keep it."

"I trust you, but I want to stay online."

A grunt, and his optics shutter to magnify as he begins lifting away the armour plates about my chest. I watch his face and can tell that he doesn't agree with this any more than Ironhide does. They see the risks as too great, or perhaps it's just the thought of something from Megatron living amongst us that's rattling them. It doesn't matter, though. I know in my spark that this new life is to be protected, whatever the cost.


	2. Chapter 2

Equilibrium

_Chapter 2_

A week later, Optimus was on watch duty in the doorway to the yard when Mikaela found him. Technically Sam was supposed to be with her but he'd bottled it and gone to find Bumblebee to interrogate about what they'd picked up from the grapevine. Which hadn't been much. It seemed like everyone was trying to keep this as quiet as possible.

When she reached the foot of his bent leg, elbow resting on the knee, he brought his optics down to her. She knew now how the small plates around the blue rings moved when he smiled behind the mask. "Mikaela. How are you today?"

She looked him over, searching for some big giveaway. If there was a sign of his condition, he was hiding it well. "Is it true?"

He blinked at the nonsequiter, though seemed to realize that he didn't want her to be shouting her side of the conversation up at him. Lowering his hand to her as a platform, he lifted her to his knee to sit on the cap, as gently as if he were handling fine china.

Mikaela bore the beginning of a grin. "Are you… pregnant?"

Optimus made a low sound, glancing down as if expecting to see a sign proclaiming as much. "That may be the closest term for your species."

She arched a brow, smirking. "Optimus."

A pause, then simply, "yes."

Mikaela finally grinned outright. "Wow." To his surprise she stood, peering at him with fresh interest. "Where is it? Can I feel it?"

Optimus found himself laughing, relieved by the positive response. Doubtless her engineering mind would want to know 'how it worked.' "It's beneath my spark chamber, though there's nothing there to feel yet. It won't distort my structure for several weeks. You may see it, though."

With a series of quiet clicks, his chest plates split and fractured open, revealing the complexity of his inner-workings. When Mikaela leant forward, perilously close to falling, Optimus lay out his hand again so she could see into the cavity. This wasn't the first time she'd asked for a closer look at an Autobot, and he trusted her not to touch anything she shouldn't.

"Everything's moved around. Hell, loads is missing." He felt her touch at a metal plate that had been completely obscured before. "Ratchet did a real number on ya."

"He had to remove most of my backup systems to make space," he replied, twitching involuntarily as he felt her cautiously probing deeper.

"So, I guess it really doesn't matter what gender you guys are to have kids. Oh, your ignition's way over here now."

Optimus thought for a moment of a way to respond to that without a protracted explanation. "We do not have genders the way you understand them, though femmes are the traditional spark-bearers. They are better constructed for it."

Mikaela brushed a neural line, feeling its resistance, and the mech suppressed a groan. Sometimes the humans forgot that every part of them felt, and some parts felt damn good. Typically it was the deeper areas, particularly close to his spark chamber, which was where she was now. He opened the divide that kept the glowing part from his cooling system, allowing her to see.

Pressed close to the spark chamber pulsed a second smaller spark, naked and exposed. She recognised the beginnings of a CPU developing above it, and a body frame so fine and fragile that it was translucent.

"Oh wow, Optimus. It's beautiful."

His intakes sighed softly. "Thank you, Mikaela. I doubt that anyone else is going to say that."

She crawled back out onto his palm, frowning up at him. "Why not?"

Disconcerted by her tone, he resealed his chest and looked away. It was difficult explaining this to a human. "In part because of the sparkling's parentage, and because it is… undesirable for a mech to bear a sparkling during a time of conflict." He shook his head, returning to the mantra he'd been repeating to himself in the small hours of the morning when he couldn't recharge. "But, this war has been so long and our numbers are dwindling. Every life is precious and worth fighting for."

Mikaela pressed her hands to her hips, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Finally, she broached, "Optimus-"

"Do not ask me who," he cut in, a thin edge of carefully measured steel in his words though his tone wasn't angry. "I will not speak of it."

She nodded with pursed lips, leaning back into his curled fingers. She didn't get the first syllable of an apology out before Ironhide's heavy footfalls took over the space.

"I'm taking over." Though he said it casually, Mikaela didn't miss the flat statement in it.

Optimus frowned, engine rumbling a little. "I've got three hours left."

"Ratchet's orders." The weapons specialist cocked a metallic brow and folded his arms. "You know he's just looking for an excuse to take you off duty. So, recharge and not paperwork before he gets pissed and comes after your aft."

The bigger mech seemed to consider that before finally relenting, lowering Mikaela to the ground before getting to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow then, old friend."

Ironhide rolled his optics, leaning against the wall Optimus had just been sat against. That endearment made him feel old, and Prime knew it.

Mikaela watched him leave, noting his weary posture and shoulders raised as if tight. Just from seeing Bumblebee yesterday she had a pretty good idea of how awkward things must have been for him on the base, though most of it was stuff that Optimus was likely unaware of. There were a fair few rumours darting about, of course, but there was also a lot of concern. Hopefully he would realise that, and feel less like he was the only one here who felt anything but unease about the sparkling. But then, it wasn't her place to say.

She looked up at the remaining mech. She hadn't gotten to know him particularly well, but then everything had to start sometime.

"Sounds like Ratchet's being pretty strict with Optimus," she broached with a wry smile.

Ironhide grunted. "Ratchet's got nothing to do with it. That's the only way I was going to get his aft on a berth recharging like he should be." He looked down at her, optics sharp with more scrutiny than any of the others, except perhaps Ratchet, ever showed. "You know, don't you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

He made a sound of acknowledgement and took his gaze to the horizon. The sun was setting, the sky taking on a burnt orange hue. Mikaela steeled herself, wanting to see if Ironhide would confirm the rumour that seemed likely to be true. "It's a Decepticon's, isn't it? That's why you're all keeping it a secret."

His silence was confirmation enough. To her surprise, the big mech glanced to check where she was before sitting, adopting almost the same posture Optimus had. He extended his blades and produced a sharpening tool from a compartment in his thigh, running it along the razor edges. "It's Prime's decision."

Encouraged by his willingness, albeit reluctant, she sat as well. "Do you think it's the wrong one?" She got the impression that the weapons didn't need sharpening, and that Ironhide was just occupying his hands.

Ironhide ran a hand across his face with an engine growl. "What I think doesn't matter – he's Prime." A short, hard sigh as he shook his head. "It's dangerous. He's compromised."

If human pregnancy was anything similar, Mikaela thought, she could see why. They were lucky if a week passed without some sort of altercation, and she'd seen for herself just how many of his backup systems had been removed.

There were a lot of questions that she knew she couldn't ask, so she stuck to the technical, bringing her knees to her chin and hugging her legs. "How's it going to grow?"

A half shrug. "Once the spark's matured enough, it'll harvest what it needs from his systems to create a protoform, and he'll heal as if from injury."

She pulled a face. "That sounds painful."

"It is. Femmes can manufacture what a sparkling needs in excess. For a mech, it's harder." The blades slid back into place and he rolled the sharpener between his fingers like a coin. "Ratchet's gonna keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Silence stretched out between them as the sky darkened, and it was obvious that the conversation was over. It didn't seem that Ironhide was dismissing her, but rather that he was preoccupied with his owns thoughts as he spun the sharpener back and forth across his hand. But then, she couldn't image who didn't have a lot on their mind now that news of the Decepticon sparkling had gotten out.

Mikaela dusted off her trousers as she stood. "Well, I should find Sam. Bet he's gotten himself all weirded out over this from 'Bee. It takes him some time to really 'get' some things."

A grunt. "Unsurprising. A good few bots round here are feeling the same way."

Mikaela simply nodded when no better response occurred and started off in the direction Optimus had went. At the edge of the hanger, she glanced back to see Ironhide looking out to the sky, though he wasn't really looking. His focus seemed to be turned inwards, though doubtless the silhouette of a Decepticon or an unknown human wouldn't get passed his attention. She slipped out quietly.

Ratchet told me to anticipate no small measure of discomfort, but he didn't mention the sheer frequency of purging. It feels like all my systems have turned extra-sensitive, craving more energon to fuel the sparkling's growth but feeling saturated and nauseous after half a cup. Between that and overclocking at the drop of a datachip, it's been a miserable two weeks.

At least nothing's changed around here even though the growing sparkling has become common knowledge. The usual suspects are turning up on my desk for disciplinary, the sill of High Grade has exploded because Jazz tried to increase its output again and Ratchet has caused as many small injuries as he's repaired large ones. It's been reassuring that things are comparatively normal outside of what's going on in my body, which has taken to rebelling several times a day.

* * *

This morning I've decided to try the rec room for my first cube of energon, in the dim hope that being away from the humming terminal in my office will help to keep it down. I presume that it'll be empty this early in the day, and I'm right for a little while. The chairs are far more comfortable than the one in my office, and I'm strongly considering relocating one when Ironhide and Prowl come in with their own energons.

"Morning, Prime. Mind if we join you?" the slender mech asks, Ironhide already sitting.

"Of course," I reply, lifting the energon and retracting my faceplate to take a sip. They've both seen my scarred mouth before and I find no discomfort in them seeing it again.

"So, how're you feeling?" Ironside asks as I swallow, a question he's never posed to me before. But then again there's a lot happening to me now that's never happened before.

The energon has barely reached my systems before my equilibrium sensors seem to tip and the inevitable wave of nausea swells out. I set down the cube on the arm of the chair and rub my closed optics, trying to will the sensation away. Resigned, my faceplate slides back into place. "That between the sparkling and Ratchet I've lost control of my body."

A bemused click from Ironhide and Prowl nudges a footstool into my feet. I accept it gratefully, waiting until I'm certain that I'm not going to purge all over myself before looking to them again. "How is everyone taking, this?"

Ironhide finishes his energon (slagger) and sits forwards, holding the cube between his hands. "It took a while to get the right version out once the word 'Decepticon' came up. No one took you for fraternizing with the enemy or anything, but a few bots assumed that you'd been…" He trips over the simple, monosyllabic word every time, and I always wonder why. He coughs, fidgets and meets my optics again. "The boys were getting a bit gun-ho for you."

"Good of them," I comment with a thin smile behind my faceplate.

"But once we put it straight what actually happened, albeit without saying who," Prowl continues with a wry expression, "everyone's been taking it like soldiers."

"Ah." I know exactly what he means, but Ironhide grins and sees fit to clarify.

"Drinking your share of High Grade."

"Drinking more High Grade in general in your honour," Prowl adds.

"Taking bets on when you'll have it."

"Where you'll have it."

"Whether it'll be a mech or a femme."

"If Ratchet's gonna end up disconnecting your motor servos."

"Whether it's first word is gonna be a click or a bleep."

I raise a brow at them both. "It sounds like the only thing they're not betting on is who the other creator is."

"Under pain of cannon fire." Ironhide says it without a trace of the humour he'd just possessed.

Prowl makes a low noise of agreement. "Such a train of speculation couldn't end well, and it would inevitably raise questions about the 'how' again."

"You're right, of course," I admit, relieved to hear that they are managing the rumour mill so well. "Let them have their fun, though. I remember when a sparkling was only news to be celebrated."

"That was a very long time ago," Ironhide agrees softly.

"And never the condition of a military commander," Prowls adds in a similar tone, as if these words may only be spoken quietly. I am relieved they are being vocalised at all, though, as I have spent a lot of time going over the same things privately.

"Truthfully, behind the drinking and gambling, they're worried about you."

Ironhide gives a half shrug as if this were obvious. "Primus, not many of us can even remember seeing a carrying femme, let alone a mech. Wouldn't surprise me if Ratchet's not handled one himself."

"So none of us know what to expect, though if this inspires some of the bonded bots to have their own, they'll be looking at you as the case study," Prowl adds with a grin that's quite unlike him.

"Trust you to lead by example," Ironhide snorts, though also smiles.

The atmosphere and comfortable chair are working wonders, and I risk taking another sip of energon. The sickly feeling arises but nowhere near as severely, and I set about finishing the cube whilst I can.

"So how're you finding it, really?" Prowl asks when I'm done.

"It's tiring more than anything else." I think back on the last two weeks, surprised to see that it seems nowhere near as awful now I'm in a better mind frame. "Uncomfortable at worst."

Ironhide chuckles a little. "Give it a few more weeks, Optimus, when it's really started to build its protoform. Then we'll see if you're just uncomfortable."

I glance to Prowl and see him smiling as I am. A pointed look to Ironhide. "You've been reading Ratchet's files, haven't you?"

A wicked glint and for a moment it feels like nothing's changed. "You know I like to have the edge in the betting pool."

"That's somewhat unfair, Ironhide."

"I'm just betting on what makes you chew down the crew first – us or the sparkling's handiwork."

"What're you backing?" I feel like I ought to get into this myself as I'm the one being betted on.

Ironhide splays his hands as if it's obvious. "The crew. I'd never underestimate the twins."

"I'll try to keep complaints about purging to myself, then."

He winks, something he's picked up from Sam via Bumblebee. "I'll be sure to cut you in. Saying that, Prowl's betting it'll be the sparkling kicking merry slag out of your rib struts, so it could go either way. He's also wagering it's a femme."

Prowl smiles over his energon. "If only because it would annoy Megatron no end." He sets the cube down and shifts back in the chair. "What do you hope it'll be?"

I find myself looking into the bottom of my cube at the strangely personal question. I've spoken about many things outside of the war with my bots, but we've never talked about family. As if it were such a normal thing that we'd likely never have it so it wasn't worth contemplating. "I'll be happy whatever form it decides to take, but I've always wanted a mech."

Ironhide stands and takes my empty cube, walking to the other side of the room to refill it. "You and Elita ever talk about younglings?"

Now this is getting too personal, but the alternative is having nothing but paperwork to take my mind off my queasy systems. "It was one of the few things we disagreed on."

"Your wanted them and she didn't?" Prowl asks.

"The other way around. It was only when we ended things so that I could stay here on Earth whilst she stayed on Cybertron that I considered it more deeply." I take the fresh cup of energon that Ironhide hands me. "But it was still not something I intended. Not with the war, and protecting the humans. If this hadn't happened in this way, I doubt I'd ever have a sparkling."

"Well, perhaps this will serve to show that a sparkling can come into the world outside of ideal circumstances, and our numbers will increase for the first time in millennia." Prowl pauses as if considering his own words. "Can you imagine this base full of sparklings?"

Unfortunately I can. "Ratchet would blow a gasket or ten inside half an hour."

Ironside elbows the tactician. "Slag, it might actually be worth it to have miniature versions of the twins running around."

"Hot Rod better not breed," Prowl replies under his breath, and I find my sentiments running the same way.

"Thank you for that. I'd just managed to stop feeling the urge to purge." I set the cube down again, pretty sure that I won't be finishing it now. "Let's see how we get on with just this one, shall we?"


	3. Chapter 3

Equilibrium

_Chapter Three_

Still recovering from my now normal purge of half of what I'd managed to intake this evening, I return to my office to finish the Monday chores of duty assignments and meetings. It's gradually become nigh-impossible to stay on top of day-to-day work, which has not helped my mood. When I arrive I find the door already open, Prowl and Ratchet stood behind my desk sifting through the paperwork that had managed to accumulate in the few hours I was away.

Before I can get a word out, Ratchet's optics flare in a scan over me. "You're taking the night off. Go recharge, or at least relax somewhere."

"Anything that we can't do can wait until tomorrow," Prowl adds with a note of finality.

I know that I won't win an argument against these two, especially with how I feel at the moment, so I click a thanks and acknowledgement and head back to my quarters. Halfway there I realise that I don't much feel like staring at the ceiling trying to recharge and not to purge. Fresh air sounds better. A drive to clear my vents.

Typically, it's raining when I get to the door, though not so heavily as to be uncomfortable even at high speed. I haven't attempted to transform into my alt form since Ratchet's modifications, and I feel like a sparkling learning for the first time as I work out where to put my own.

"Hey big guy! You going out?"

I rotate back the parts that I'd already started to transform as Sam catches up from behind me. His expression is, for once, unreadable. "Yes. Is everything alright?"

He stops short at my feet. "What? Oh, yeah. Everything's cool. Just wondered if you fancied some company is all."

My instinct is to decline his offer to take some time alone with my thoughts, but I haven't seen Sam since my 'meeting' with Megatron, and I have the distinct impression he has been avoiding me. It would be better to resolve whatever his concerns are sooner rather than later.

"That would be appreciated, thank you."

Sam puts a respectful distance between us to allow me space to transform, which only takes a few seconds longer than usual. In the end I settle for tucking the sparkling under the seats of the cabin where it will be well insulated from the world outside. Settling into the adapted configuration, I open the driver's side door for Sam to get in and rev my engine.

"All set," he tells me, though I wait until I feel his seatbelt click before moving out into the rain.

Immediately the crisp air in my intakes, the cooler temperature and the rain sliding off my panels soothes away the vast majority of my complaints. On the highway, we cruise just under the speed limit, the surface water delivering a refreshing spray.

Inside the cab Sam hasn't spoken yet, and I turn on the radio to break the silence. Blues and jazz, the volume low though he still jumps, on edge. "So, uh, how've you been?"

The question takes me by surprise, but I decide not to admit to the mounting discomfort the sparkling is bringing. "As expected." A billboard for Hershey's passes us, and I have a sudden urge for a rust stick – something I've not had since I was a youngling. Sam picks at nonexistent dirt particles on his clothes, his body tight and uncertain. Directly is the best way to bypass his awkwardness. "I believe you know 'how I am', and I believe you've been avoiding me because of it."

He straightens in the seat. "What? Optimus, no, I just-"

My wipers flick with irritation before I can stop them. "Sam, I see you on average 2.7 times a week, frequently with dialogue exchanged. These previous three weeks, I have not seen you at all until now."

"Right, yeah. Well. I don't…"

I remind myself of how young he is, and of how different his species is from mine. "You are uncomfortable with my carrying a sparkling."

He rubs the back of his neck, a gesture I know well. He does it frequently around Mikaela. "No… well, maybe. I don't know. It's just weird, is all. And sudden."

"It was sudden. It was not planned, but it is not unwelcomed. At least by myself." We overtake a Camero not unlike Bumblebee, though this one is filled with young humans and smoke. A quick scan confirms that it is a recreational substance and not a malfunction with the vehicle itself.

Sam leans into the cabin door, drumming his fingers on the seat. It's the first time it's felt irritating, but he clears his throat before I can tell him to stop. "So who's the other, uh, parent? I'm guessing it takes two."

"My species reproduces differently to your own, though optimally contributions from a pair are utilised. Interfacing is not always a requirement." A marker for a large junction comes up and I acknowledge how much my axels are beginning to ache. I switch lanes to take us in a circuit back to the base. Sam does not notice, watching my dash with a frown. I turn the radio off. "This sparkling was not the result of what you would deem unprotected sex, but it is also not a clone."

He rubs his neck again, but at least he's stopped tapping the seat. "So who's the other, uh, bot?"

We travel a quarter of a mile whilst I weigh up how much to tell him, if I should tell him anything. "It is part Decepticon." The road splits and I follow it right. "It was seeded whilst I was injured."

His eyes widen. "Doesn't that make it dangerous? Is it gonna come out a Decepticon?"

I like Sam. I like humans in general on most days, but sometimes I seriously wonder how they've achieved space flight. "Does the offspring of your species automatically adopt the traits of its parents?"

"Just looks and stuff. Hair colour, height. Sometimes illnesses." A short, embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Sorry Optimus. I didn't mean to offend." He resumes tapping.

"No offense taken, Sam. Some may believe that evil is inherited, but I do not. The Decepticons are victims of circumstance, manipulation and difficult times. This sparkling will be raised as an Autobot despite what the Decepticons may want for its future."

His tone lowers, thickening with worry. "You mean you think they'll try and take it?"

The rain intensifies and my wipers swing faster, fuelled by my own feelings on the matter at hand. "They have threatened as much. A sparkling is at its core potential, potential based on the strength of its creators. I am a Prime. My predecessors passed down the qualities that make me one."

"So Megatron's thinking 'half Prime, half Decepticon' it's gonna be worth having,' and he's planning to go all Anakin Skywalker and Emperor Palpatine on it?"

I check the references and find them accurate enough. "That is what I believe, yes." The road lifts us up onto a flyby for the main junction, the light indicating for us to wait though it is deserted. Braking to a stop, I take a moment to flex my axels a little. "Sam, please cease tapping the seat."

He doesn't stop, grinning up at the sun visor instead. "I always tap your seat, big guy. Didn't know I was doing it until you told me one day, remember?"

A sigh that shakes my engine block. "Yes, but now you're tapping directly over the sparkling and it is uncomfortable."

Sam moves as if the seat is burning him. "Whoa, I'm sat on it? It's right here? Jesus, Optimus, I had no idea." There's not quite enough room in the cab for him to stand and he ends up leaning onto the dashboard, stretching away from the seat. "Can I – should I just scootch… Where should I park myself?"

I laugh despite myself. "You are fine where you were, Sam. Relax and resume sitting. Re-attach the seatbelt and just sit still."

He obeys though cautiously, clicking the belt back into place. "Yeah, whatever you want big guy. Never piss off a pregnant person."

I wonder if this is a cultural faux-pas that I haven't encountered yet. "Why?"

"Because they get pissy real easy. Mood swings and stuff."

"Ah. That is a wise precaution." The light changes to green and my brakes sigh as I take us forwards up the incline again. "If these last few weeks have been any indication of how things are to proceed, then I am certain to be quite 'pissy' for the next month."

"Ah, you'll be alright." He pats the dash, a gesture of comfort usually but presently just incredibly condescending. "Just keep your gun holstered and remember it's only two months. Better than for humans. Nine whole months to -"

"Sam, brace for impact!"

Sam sees the headlights at the same time as I do, and I turn to put my bumper to the truck that has run its own light. It is too fast and the road slides under my tyres, control impossible. The impact feels as hard as one of Megatron's shots along my side. We roll, then I am falling but not before seeing Starscream's hard outline in the sky above.

* * *

Sam didn't pass out but he did close his eyes, holding the rig's wheel in a death grip long after they'd rolled off the flyover and slammed into the ground below. The rain continued to spatter against Optimus's windshield, running off in wide rivulets from one side to the other. The headlights were out and there was no sound.

Groaning as he rubbed his head, Sam looked out into the empty darkness beneath the flyover and pulled at the seatbelt digging into him as it suspended him sideways in the cab.

"Optimus? Are you okay? Come on, man, say something." No response. He tried the door that was now above his arm, but found it stuck. The cabin was warped inwards from the impact, and he was sure that if this had been a normal rig he wouldn't be sitting here unscathed. "Come on big guy, you've gotten up from worse than this."

A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Optimus hadn't been carrying a child those times, and the Autobot's silence abruptly became frightening. Undoing the belt, he dropped in a heap onto the other door, his back against the warm seat. Very aware of what was now under those seats, Sam stood and pressed his ear to the fabric. "Hey little guy, you okay in there? I know Dad took a tumble, but he'll be alright. Just don't go doing anything premature on me whilst I figure this out."

Whether is was by sheer coincidence or something else, when Sam stopped talking to the sparkling the lights on the dash started to flicker on.

"Prime, you there? Ratchet's threatening to tow you back if you don't answer."

Sam grinned and grabbed the radio in both hands. "Bee, man I've never been so glad to hear ya. Optimus took a dive off the flyover by Broadwater."

"Decepticons?"

He looked through the windshield again, and then up through the small window several feet above his head. "Just someone jumping a red light, I think."

Ratchet's voice broke into the transmission. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know. He hasn't woken up yet. Lights are only just starting to come on in here." A sick feeling of helplessness was intensifying around his stomach, and he rested his head on the radio between his hands. "What should I do?"

The sound of metal shifting in the background, and an Autobot transforming on the move. "Get out of the cabin and stay with him. We're on our way. Ratchet out."

Static for a few seconds and then silence resumed, broken only by the hammering rain. The lights across the dash remained on, though. "Hear that Optimus? Ratchet's on his way. If you can hear me, just sit tight. I'm fine so I bet Junior is too." Sam nodded to himself, satisfied by his own logic. "Ratchet said to try and get out of you, probably in case you accidentally transform and squish me."

Easier said than done, it seemed, and 'try' was going to be the operative word. The door above was crumpled shut and the undamaged door was beneath him. With a grimace, Sam reached up and grabbed the light point in the middle of the cab's ceiling to haul himself up, sticking a foot in the open glove compartment.

"I'm pretty sure it's only decorative, but all the same, sorry 'bout this." Closing his eyes and with a shout of effort, Sam slammed his foot heel first into the windshield. And was rewarded with a throbbing leg and nothing else.

"Well that was stupid," he muttered, rubbing his knee.

Whilst he was weighing up whether he should try that again, a shadow passed over the windshield and Sam looked up to see red optics gazing into the cab. His heart jumped into his throat as Starscream swayed a little on bended knee, scrutinizing the downed Autobot. Behind him lay the now flaming remains of the other truck. A hand punched forwards through the windshield in time with Sam's shout, wrapping around the human and dumping him on his ass in the mud outside the cab. Sam watched as Starscream reached into the cab again, cocking his head as he lay sharp fingers against the seat.

Standing he barely came up to the kneeling Decepitcon's hip, but he didn't back away. "Leave him alone!"

Rather than pointing a gun at him as he was expecting, Starscream ignored him completely as he withdrew his hand and surveyed their surroundings. Grabbing Optimus's grill, he began dragging him towards the cover of the flyover, leaving deep gouges in the mud behind them.

Sam ran to follow, grabbing at the back of his head when they'd reached the shelter from the elements and Starscream merely let go of the semi's grill, moving out of sight to kneel beside Optimus's undercarriage. There was a cracking sound as Optimus's rear axel was forced straight, making transformation out of this state much easier. He followed him around, panic giving way to confusion as he watched the flyer running gentle fingers along the bent pipes, straightening dented parts and tapping thoughtfully. He didn't seem to have any intention of hurting the Autobot.

"Should be booting back online by now. Backup's down," Starscream murmured, grasping an armour plate and forcing it open to look inside. "Or missing. Slag, Prime, you're an idiot." He produced a slender blade from his forearm and began stripping the hefty wires, teasing them loose.

Sam approached the strange display with wide eyes, wondering if this was what it felt like to go insane. The Decepticon looked like he was actually trying to help. "What're you doing?"

Starscream glanced in his direction before rolling his optics and resuming his work, extending a cable from his chest that cracked sparks in the moist air. "Shut up, meatbag."

"The Autobots are on their way right now," Sam warned, though even to his own ears it wasn't a convincing threat. But there really was nothing else he could do. "And if you do anything to him-"

"If I'd have wanted to kill him he'd be dead, and you'd be mashed into his engine parts," Starscream screeched back, briefly turning his sharp red gaze on the human. Growling to himself, he tapped his own cable against the exposed wiring on Optimus's undercarriage, watching the current ripple outwards in short waves. Nothing happened and he inspected the body again. "Frag it. Tore your slagging tank too." Another cable, much wider this time, snaked out from an abdominal port and melted a contact with the exposed fuel tank whilst Starscream put a crude weld over the tear. Sitting back as he pumped fresh energon into Optimus's system, he continued muttering. "Hulking heap of scrap. Don't understand how Megatron's never managed to finish you off, but then he's an even bigger moron than you."

Sam was officially spooked now but knew enough from watching Ratchet work to know that Starscream genuinely was helping. Not particularly kindly, but the job was getting done, though he couldn't figure out a motivation for it. Then it struck with enough force to make him choke on his breath.

Optimus saying that the sparkling's second parent was a Decepticon, the way Starscream had suddenly appeared right after he was hurt, and now the way he was sharing his own fuel and energy to help him. Starscream was the other father. Sam shook his head, but logic disagreed. There was no other explanation.

A crack as Starscream tapped at Optimus's cables with his power line and then the semi jerked on its side, followed by a long, pained groan. Extending the fuel line and retracting the power cable, Starscream grabbed the big tyres and pulled the rig upright. "Get up, you stupid Autobot."

At the voice Optimus's awareness seemed to come firing back, the mech transforming out of alt mode as fast as possible and backing away in the process, body low to the ground. Starscream jerked and wrapped a hand around their shared fuel line, grimacing as it was tugged violently. "Hold still, Prime."

Optimus remained still, not taking his optics off Starscream. "Sam?"

"Right here, Optimus," the teen shouted back, sprinting to get a little behind the mech's feet. "Are you alright?"

"Banged up but nothing Ratchet won't hammer out," Optimus replied, still staring at Starscream. He raised a hand to the fuel line, frowning outright.

"You leaked out, Prime," Starscream explained flatly, closing some of the distance between them with a few enormous steps. "Had to put some juice back in to jump start you."

Straightening, Optimus looked to Sam for confirmation before nodding to Starscream. As he'd predicted, the Decepticon's were keen for this sparkling to grow and be born healthy, so they could take it and twist it to their own ends. At the very least his youngling would make a painfully effective bargaining chip. "Thank you, though I expect it was only on Megatron's orders that you helped me."

Starscream laughed in that way that put chills down Sam's back. "Megatron doesn't even know I'm here. I was looking for you when you got yourself taken out by a fleshling."

Optimus didn't have a chance to query the remark before several powerful beams of light threw the area into sharp shadows. Ratchet remained on the rise whilst Ironhide and Bumblebee charged forwards, transforming as they went. The yellow mech snatched up Sam whilst Ironhide ground to a wet halt at Optimus's side, cannons extended and loaded on Starscream.

"Wait!"

All movement froze at the Prime's command, though Optimus continued to hold a hand in front of the glowing cannons. Grasping the fuel line, he twisted to seal the connection before pulling it off his tank, watching Starscream whip it back into his body in a fast retraction. The Decepticon adjusted his footing a little, though the stance was a defensive one – entirely alien on him.

"Decepticon Starscream," Optimus began, moving to address the dark mech squarely. "I am taking you prisoner. Under the Treaty of Iacon, you will not be mistreated." His optics narrowed fractionally. "But you will be made to come peacefully."

Starscream shrugged and held up his hands, grinning wickedly. It was if he had orchestrated this all himself, waiting as Ironhide moved behind him and tapped him with his cannons to get him walking. Ratchet passed them as he approach Optimus, laying a hand displaying a sensor array to the scratched chassis.

Optimus allowed it for a few moments, until he was sure that the medic was as content with the sparkling's condition as he was. "Nothing that can't wait until we get back to the base," he said when Ratchet moved his gaze elsewhere to assess damage. "Starscream appears to have done a fair job."

A dubious sound from the shorter mech. "That's what worries me."

Bumblebee had transformed into alt form for Sam's comfort more than anything, opening his door for the teen to get in and then falling in line behind Starscream and Ironhide, Ratchet and Optimus bringing up the rear. Walking seemed to be the most straightforward way of keeping the Decepticon under control if he took it into his mind to bolt, though he showed no sign of wanting to.

"Never thought I'd see it," Bumblebee announced quietly, effectively summing up the view.

Sam nodded with a long exhale, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I know what you mean, Bee. But I think I get it."

"Get it?"

"The way he just dropped out of the sky like that, and sharing his own fuel to help Optimus. Bee, I think he's the other father of the sparkling."

The Camero's engine jumped as it missed a gear.


	4. Chapter 4

Equilibrium

_Chapter 4_

'Tense' is an understatement for the atmosphere inside the base. Prowl took Starscream for interrogation whilst Ratchet and Ironhide escorted me to the medbay. Some welding and adjusting was all that was needed, Starscream having addressed the worst of it at the scene. The whole experience was deeply unsettling, leaving me keen to hear Prowl's report on how much information he managed to get.

In my office Ironhide is shadowing me, likely under Ratchet's orders, and likely to be overruling of mine if I try to get rid of him. I told Ratchet that he should figure out a configuration of energon that wouldn't have me purging several times a day, as if I'd had anywhere near a full tank I wouldn't have had to receive a fuel donation from Starscream. As it is, Ironhide has all but forced me to drink a cube I didn't want and has left another in front of me on the desk.

Prowl doesn't have us waiting long before stepping over the threshold, rubbing his neck with a grimace of weariness. I find myself looking over his hands for dents or scratches. It would be an outright breach of the treaty and very unlike Prowl, but it was Starscream.

Ironhide voices my thoughts. "You have to hit him much?"

"I couldn't stop him talking." Prowl takes the seat opposite my desk and sits back, rubbing a hand across his face. "Said he's defecting from the Decepticons to join the Autobots under your leadership. Seems like he's finally bust enough circuits to want to dispatch Megatron through a new approach."

Ironhide makes a short flat sound over my shoulder that eloquently sums up my own response. I shift a little, my intakes rattling with the need to recharge. "Did he give a reason?"

My tactician nods to indicate my chest, and doubtless the sparkling inside. "Very eloquently, I must admit." His head tips slightly, accessing the recording and jumping through to the most relevant parts. Even without his presence behind it, Starscream's voice is unsettling.

"_Why? Because that sparkling is the only thing that's going to end this war. It won't be Megatron or Prime that finish things – it'll be the future generation. No more Autobots or Decepticons are coming, and everyone who was going to switch sides has probably done it already. All that's left is time and the same fights with the same outcomes, all dictated by dumb luck. And I'm sick of it. Prime's sparkling is going to be strong, strong enough to beat Megatron down and probably unite a few bots on the way."_

"Why not just wait around and take the sparkling for himself? That'd be more like Starscream," Ironhide grunts, and I find myself agreeing.

Prowl smiles a little. "Oh, he had an answer for that one too."

"_I'm sick of this war, sick of never winning and never seeing Megatron lose enough to take over the Decepticons and finish it myself. And I'm not the only one. With so few of us left in the universe, just having someone win is victory enough. And I swear Prime's sparkling will be the one to offline Megatron once and for all."_

Prowl's voice switches back to his own. "Such high expectations for your little one, Optimus, and not even born yet."

A half smile that I can't fully back. I don't want the sparkling to be destined for such a life, likely with prices greater than any I have paid. "So it would seem."

Ironhide moves from behind me to stand at the side of the desk, resting a hand on the surface. "We'll need to keep Starscream contained here and block his transmissions. Slag, if it weren't for the Treaty I'd say have him put out by Ratchet for the next few months… We could do that anyway, Prime."

"Ironhide." It's a warning rather than an admonishment and he grins.

"After spending an hour with him, I'm almost convinced he's really defecting," Prowl goes on evenly. "He offered up the location of several Decepticon checkpoints and patrol routes. We could corroborate that with a few teams sent out in the morning."

Ironhide drums his fingers. "And you're sure he wants to be shooting at his Master from our ranks, and he's not just using us to help him get rid of Megatron so that he can take over?"

Prowl jerks his head again.

"_The look on Megatron's face as I stand against him, Prime on one side and offspring on the other, is worth flying under a different banner. And I'll always back the winning side."_

I pick up the energon cube thoughtfully, hungry, tired and nauseas in equal measures. It's been a very long night, and the next week isn't looking particularly good now. "I think I should speak to him alone. Not that I don't trust you, Prowl. I'd just rather get a measure of his intentions and motivations myself."

Ironhide nudges the back of my raised hand, brow furrowed. "Later. No harm in letting him stew for a few hours and you need to get some energy back."

"In fact, I'd leave him a week or so before you speak to him. Gives us time to check his facts, make some use of it," Prowl adds. "Starscream's not a patient mech. If he's truly defecting, he'll complain but nothing else. If this is part of some plan, a week of assessment and solitude will put him to try and escape by force. Not to mention it'll give you some much needed time to recover from tonight's events."

Prowl's suggestion is sound, as is his quiet assessment of my needs. Though I hate being told how to take care of myself, which I've been getting enough of from Ratchet anyway, I know they're right. I rest an arm on the desk and take a sip of energon, pressing my optics when a thick wave of heat and queasiness washes through my systems.

* * *

"I think I'm going to purge."

Prowl rose to his feet as he exchanged a worried glance with Ironhide, watching the darker mech take away the energon cube and move to stand behind the seated Autobot. Optimus needed all the energon he could keep down just for the sake of the sparkling, let alone to recover from crashing off a flyover. He could see why Ratchet had been asked to look into a way to ease the purging problem.

Ignoring Prowl's stare, Ironhide pressed a hand over the neural lines in the back of Optimus's neck, lowering the temperature of those plates by ten degrees to try to sooth away the sensation. "Me and Prowl can sort out tomorrow's briefing. Try and recharge for a bit."

Optimus brought his hand from his face and nodded, though his faceplate remained retracted as if still expecting to purge. "Thank you. I think I'll do that."

"Want me to walk you back?" Ironhide remained hovering beside the taller mech as Optimus stood, Prowl watching with a furrowed brow.

"I think I'll manage, thank you, 'Hide," Optimus replied with a thin smile, touching his shoulder before stepping out of the office, the door sliding shut behind him.

Ironhide lingered by the door, folding his arms and uttering a mechanical hiss of frustration. "Slag it. This is just what he needed. I think we need to talk to Ratchet again about – what?" He cut himself off at the thin bot's expression.

Prowl sat back down in the chair as if struck with an epiphany, optics bright. Ironhide immediately felt on-guard, moreso when the tactician grinned. "You like him."

It was only from having known each other for so long that Prowl saw the hesitance before the casual shrug and off-hand reply. "Of course I like him. He's Optimus Prime. Everyone likes him."

"No, I mean you –like- him."

Ironhide scoffed and jerked a dismissive hand at him. "You need your head defragging!" Dropping into Optimus's chair, he pulled the first lot of datachips towards him, pointedly not looking at Prowl.

Silence dragged out for a solid minute before Prowl sat forwards, resting his hands on the edge of the desk. "So, how long has the gruff weapons specialist carried a torch for Prime?"

A scarred hand slammed onto the table, making everything on it jump. "Shut up, Prowl, before I shut you up."

Feeling more than seeing the frightened, almost embarrassed passion lurking behind the averted optics, Prowl slowly got to his feet as if approaching a cornered animal. Clearly this was not a matter Ironhide felt could be taken lightly, and from the intensity in his optics, he could see why. These were old feelings, carefully marshalled and successfully hidden until only moments ago, when he'd connected all the gestures of kindness towards their suddenly-vulnerable leader, gestures he'd never seen Ironhide make before.

Prowl brought his gaze to the sitting mech's lowered one. "It's alright, 'Hide. Optimus is… well, he's Prime. I'd be lying if I-" He shook his head, deciding that that train wouldn't be of any help. "It's been for a while, hasn't it?"

Silence but for the sounds of Ironhide's vents intensifying, his aggravated body starting to warm as it would before a fight. It damned the mech's indirect admission to fact, and Prowl retook his seat. When he spoke it was softly, almost sadly. "Why don't you tell him?"

Another scoff, though this one wasn't fuelled with false indignation. Ironhide knew when he was caught. If anything he was glad it was by Prowl, whom would naturally be very discreet about the whole thing. "He doesn't need this on top of everything else that's going on."

"Or maybe he actually needs some looking after."

Ironhide shook his head, staring more intently at the datachips though they were far from his focus. He'd never felt this at a loss before, and it wasn't a feeling he welcomed. "Of course he doesn't. He's Prime."

"What a comforting barrier of self-sufficiency and solitude you all build around him," Prowl drawled with rolling optics, sitting back in the chair. This untouchable complex connected to Primes was doubtless one of the main reasons Optimus had been alone for so long, in his mind. But like everyone, even Prime needed someone – now more than ever. "Tell me: if you don't think he needs taking care of, why are you so keen to try?"

Ironhide looked up as if offended by the question. "Because I have to. Because I can't just, watch it. Leave him suffering."

Prowl nodded. "It's the guardian in you. The bodyguard. But he doesn't need watching over. He needs exactly what you've been giving him, and probably what you'd be willing to give him. I know how you fight, Ironhide, and I'll bet you love just as fiercely and devotedly."

A sharp exhale, dismissive and attempting to shut down the topic. Ironhide stood and put his back to the other mech though not in a gesture of disrespect. "Now isn't the time."

This revelation, this chance for something good to come out of this whole mess, had captured Prowl entirely. He moved to stand beside Ironhide, reaching out a hand to his elbow but not quite making contact. "Why not?"

Ironhide turned on him violently, expression torn. "Oh come on! He's carrying Megatron's sparkling. I can't very well go up to him and say, 'Hey Prime, I think I know a way to help you recharge. Do you fancy interfacing until our CPUs melt?' Slag, Prowl, I couldn't think of a worse time if I tried."

Prowl made a countering gesture, his tone still soft. "Or a better one, considering it's been how many thousands of years without you saying anything?"

Forced distance, as if he were making an attempt to escape the topic but needing this enough not to leave the room. Ironhide ran a hand across his face, dental plates gritted. "We were at war. Relationships between the higher ranks are generally considered a liability. And that's even assuming he wouldn't just disconnect my head for even suggesting the idea."

Now Prowl's tone did harden. "Optimus would do no such thing. If anything he'd let you down as quietly and gently as possible."

Rolled optics. "Gee, what an attractive alternative."

Ironhide's reluctance was not cowardly, but deeply rooted in old traditions and ways of thinking. Prowl saw no point in sacrificing possible happiness for the sake of holding onto notions that survived amongst a scant surviving handful of an entire race. "Things change – they have changed. Have you ever heard a conversation before about having sparklings running around the base? Or of bonded couples thinking about having a family? It's never going to be ideal circumstances again – the Cybertron we knew is lost to us, no matter what we do. The war with the Decepticons isn't going to end overnight. We cannot keep fighting as if this will end tomorrow without building towards a future that's worth fighting for."

Ironhide muttered something that his finials couldn't quite pick up, and Prowl lay a hand on the mech's shoulder, his voice softening again. "Just think about it, is all. Come on, now. The sooner we finish up with this mess Starscream's arrival has made, the sooner we can both get some much needed recharge."

"You're gonna make me talk to him, aren't you?" A smirk, nearly natural. "Or try to anyway."

"With those canons my friend, not likely," came the chuckled reply, siphoning some of the uneasy tension from the room. The air felt fragile all of a sudden, as if in the wake of a storm, and Prowl returned to the guest chair and slid a handful of datachips to himself. Ironhide remained standing, watchful and tense until Prowl looked up again with a sigh. "But you should tell him. It's your decision, but I think it's one he needs you to make."


	5. Chapter 5

Equilibrium

_Chapter Five_

Satisfied with Optimus's state the following morning and having given Starscream a basic physical assessment, Ratchet had spent a quiet day practicing chemistry with energon. A batch of the filtered and chemically softened fluid now sat in cubes to one side of the madbay waiting for the Autobot leader to come and test one when his nausea settled enough to let him. Though a little strung out from the delicate work, he'd still kept his appointment to have Mikaela join him that afternoon.

Mikaela had taken a strong mechanical interest in the sparkling, and given her engineering skills and small hands, Ratchet was having her familiarise herself with tools and equipment for several hours in the medbay almost daily. Developing her knowledge of Cybertronian physiology from sparkling to young adulthood seemed an opportunity too great to allow her to pass up, and Optimus had been supportive of the decision as well, though he had already complained once about feeling like a 'guinea pig.'

The old medic liked that he didn't need to talk Mikaela through everything, her basic knowledge and aptitude garnered from using Earth technology standing her in good stead already. She had the makings of a fine medic, and she was going to be put to work in a useful capacity.

Sitting cross-legged on the end of an examination berth, Mikaela was currently taking apart old components to clean up in case they were needed in the future. It was a tedious task but one that needed doing. "So how many babies have you helped deliver, Ratchet?"

Ratchet glanced up from where he was using the same berth as a table, the pile of components sitting between them. He was handling the larger parts such as limb joints and liquid tanks, scraping away structural imperfections. "Personally? Two, though I oversaw the carrying of three more femmes."

"And mechs?"

He shook his head, taking up a finer blade to clean the friction groove inside a pelvic socket. "No mechs. It's very uncommon in the military, Mikaela. That's why I have Optimus in here every other day so that I can monitor him and keep a thorough log."

Mikaela smirked and lifted a thick curtain of hair back, smudging her forehead with grease. "And here he thinks you know what you're doing."

Extended time with her and her sense of humour allowed the old mech to see her rebuke for what it was. Ratchet grinned, setting the socket part aside and beginning to scrape out a backup coolant tank. "I'm his physician. He's supposed to believe that I know what I'm doing, though I hope he would trust me even if I was uncertain."

"I guess you know his ins and outs better than anyone else here."

"We have served together for a long time," Ratchet agreed quietly, peering into the exit port of the tank with narrowed optics, searching for any signs of a blockage.

"So…?"

He looked up to find her staring at him. "So, what?"

She jerked her chin at him, grinning. "What're you betting on? Having the inside scoop and all?"

A snorted laugh. "That would be most unprofessional, though I have bet him that he'll deliver in the middle of some slagging battle just to make things as awkward as possible."

Mikaela quirked a brow and looked over the part before setting it aside, rubbing her hands on the rag in her lap. "I think Optimus will be trying to avoid that at all costs."

Ratchet reached under the berth and pulled out a metal storage box the size of a hatchback. Ironhide had dropped it off this morning. Taking the lid off, he set it down so that the human could stand on it as a step up. "Here, start stripping the paint off these, will you?"

"Sure." Mikaela stepped up onto the lid and looked into the box, nose crinkling at the assortment of parts. It looked like random junk taken from a cluster of different bots. "What is this stuff?"

"It's an old Cybertronian tradition," Ratchet began, standing and fetching a smaller laser tool for her to use. "When a sparkling is coming, friends and family of the carrier donate parts as gifts to make its first body."

"That's sweet," she replied, then paused as her smile morphed into a grimace. "In a creepy kinda way."

"All we are is parts around our sparks, Mikaela," Ratchet replied evenly, taking no offense. "Even our CPUs only process who we are. Giving parts is a way of showing that the sparkling has been welcomed into the community. Think of it as giving clothing, only far more personal."

"So Optimus is gonna have, like, a sparkling-shower?" She put a hand to her mouth to disguise her reaction to the mental image of Prime being presented with a cake in the shape of a stork.

It took Ratchet a few seconds to check the reference and the feedback from the Internet made him grin as well. "Not quite. I'll assemble the parts with new components ready for when the sparkling is strong enough to leave its protoform for its first body."

"Oh, it's so much more work bringing up kids for you guys. More self-sufficient, sure, but we don't have to make them new bodies every time they want a growth spurt. Okay, let's see what the babe's got." Delving into the box, Mikaela sifted through things she recognised and a lot she didn't. "Looks like Jazz put in some speakers."

Ratchet rolled his optics. "How very imaginative of him."

Her hands went deeper, finding another box about the size of a television buried at the bottom. Its lid bore the yellow Camero's mark beneath a silver handle. Mikaela twisted it and the box opened on its own. "Uh, Bumblebee's got… I don't know what this is."

Ratchet moved to look, running his fingers through the cluster of small, yellow pieces inside the smaller box. "Ah, his first kibble set."

"Kibble?"

Lifting the box out, Ratchet poured its contents onto the berth and ran his fingers through them. Touching them again was a warm, almost humbling experience, taking him back ages to when he first installed them on the youngest Autobot. Or, the former youngest. "More erroneous parts, typically decorative. Wing mirrors, hub cabs, all the stuff that gets torn off first in a fight that sometimes gets left behind. Not many bots hold onto their youngling kibble."

There was a scraping sound followed by a large _thud_ as Mikaela heaved out the largest item onto the berth. The colouring of it was unmistakable. "Whoa, Ironhide put in a weapon. Ratchet, this is bigger than the kid!"

Ratchet arched a brow as he lifted the canon, surprised to see that it wasn't an old one. The mech had removed this from his arsenal only recently. "And it will be going on a far later body so no one gets shot whenever the sparkling wants to be picked up," he announced, taking the part to the storage cupboard and tucking it away on a top shelf.

Mikaela watched with a crinkled nose, smiling. "Aw, baby's first cannon."

"Yes, what a responsible weapons specialist we have," came the groused retort as Ratchet returned to his seat at the berth.

"Ah, I'll bet Ironhide just wants Optimus to know that the sparkling will be safe, is all." She lifted a mirror from Bumblebee's kibble set, beginning to scrape off the faded but distinctive paint colour. "It's like a big gesture."

"Even so," Ratchet sighed, his tone heavy with experienced and wearied frustration, "I'd rather he not try to give live weapons to a bot too young to know where its finials are."

* * *

At first it had been nice. Sweet, even. The first time it had happened was with Ironhide, Prowl and Bumblebee over an energon breakfast discussing the specifics of Starscream's containment, the conversation suddenly interrupted by a sharp _clang_ from Optimus. They'd all shared a silent look, and then it had happened again, hard enough to make the Autobot leader grimace. Bumblebee's optics had, impossibly gotten even brighter and Optimus didn't have it in him to say 'no' when the young bot had asked to feel it and tap back.

That was a week ago, and now Optimus resented every bit of attention the sparkling's kicks had earned with a passion, because it must have encouraged it. There was no other way to explain how it could be kicking all the damn time.

Sitting on a very familiar berth in the medbay, Optimus had very nearly lost his renowned calm and inserted Ratchet's head into the wall upon receiving yet another lecture on not recharging enough.

"Ratchet, if you sincerely think I should be recharging, and I sorely want to I must add, then you have to do something about this kicking," the Autobot leader practically begged, underlined by another hard _clang_ that he instinctively pressed a hand against. "It's all the time. It needs tying up or something just for one night so I don't end up offlining on my feet."

"Open up," Ratchet instructed, waiting with folded arms as Optimus acknowledged that his request was going to be ignored and finally parted his chest panels. The medic made a soft sound of interest, touching at the woven cables and tubes that had developed to encase the sparkling to deliver harvested fragments from around the mech's body. "It's going to be a big bot. Protoform's pretty much there, so now it's just growing. No wonder the kicking's keeping you wake."

Optimus rubbed his face at how utterly unhelpful that was, shifting a little at the medic's uncomfortable probing touch. At least this was wholly distracting from the meeting with Starscream he had planned in a few days. "There must be something you can do."

Ratchet stepped back with a troubled gaze, gesturing that he could reseal his armour. "I'm sorry, Prime, but there's nothing I can do medically. This is a comfort thing - where the sparkmate would usually come in. I'm afraid that this is just one of the disadvantages of being a single creator." He moved to collect a fresh canister of coolant, opening the port on Optimus' hip to replace it. "This won't take a minute. I think you'll need your coolant changed daily from now on from how hot your systems are running to keep up with the sparkling's appetite. I'm afraid it's going to get harder before things plateau again."

Optimus made a low sound that was not of self-pity. "Better to be a single creator than to have Megatron rubbing my backstrut."

The medic raised a brow. "Your backstrut hurts?"

A soft sigh and he rubbed his face again. "Everything hurts, Ratchet."

_Clang._

Ratchet suppressed a smile, twisting the tube to stop the coolant now that it was topped up again. Though he sympathised with Optimus's mounting discomfort, he was also glad that the sparkling was growing so strong. He'd had a niggling concern from the start that a habloid spark from a Decepticon trying to blend with an Autobot would be defective in some way, and that he'd see Optimus coming to him in the agonised throes of miscarriage any day. Past the halfway point of carrying now, though, he was confident. Just a few more weeks and he'd be seeing what paintjob the sparkling adopted so he could finish up its first body.

Optimus groaned as the sparkling delivered another savage kick to his already sensitive internals, sliding down off the berth. "Oh slag it, I'm going for a walk. Seems to be the only thing that quiets it down."

"Alright. I'm all done here," Ratchet replied, quickly resealing the portcap before looking up to the wearied optics. "And it's not an 'it' any more. You've got a strong mech in there."

Optimus smiled behind the mask, his hand migrating to his chassis in a gesture that he rarely displayed. "I'll be sure to remind myself of that the next time he tries to kick a hole in me."

* * *

Walking the perimeter of the base served to check in on the lookouts as well as to settle the sparkling back into comparative stillness. Optimus wondered if it slept, and if it did he hoped that that was what it was doing now and would keep doing for a few hours. He wasn't sure how many more days he could go without a decent recharge, particularly with his personal questioning of Starscream to plan for. At least Ratchet's doctored energon was staying down now.

Returning to his quarters, Optimus all but fell onto his berth, joints hissing out as his body relaxed. So far so good. He was just beginning to offline, when…

_Clang._

The mech groaned and pressed his hands over his face. When the door chimed some ten seconds later, he answered through his fingers. "What?"

Ironhide wasn't deterred by his commander's tone. Indeed he was downright used to it when Optimus was tired, aching and irritable, which was 90% of the time now. Letting himself in, he dragged a chair over to sit beside the restless Prime led on the berth. "Saw you doing some base-wide pacing. Thought I'd look in and see how you're doing."

Optimus lay his hands back down, answering to some unspecified point on the ceiling. "I'm tired, 'Hide. And he won't stop kicking."

"He?"

"Prowl lost."

"Ah." Ironhide sat back in the chair, resting an elbow on the birth. "I'll let Sam know. Everyone else took Prowl's cue as a safe bet."

Optimus met his optics. "And you?"

Ironhide shrugged in a forced effort of casualness. "I'm more concerned with what's going on with you than the sparkling."

Though Ironside had said it so matter-of-factly, Optimus found himself frowning at the words, trying to tease out the undercurrent of meaning.

_Clang_.

An irritated groan and he rubbed at the side of his grill, optics shuttering as his body shifted. Ironhide touched his wrist. "Let me do that. Might be just the little mech wanting some attention. Get some recharge."

Optimus didn't need much convincing, finding the light touches soothing and remarkably effective. Within seconds his optics began to dim, fans slowing as his limbs turned heavy. "Sorry… Such poor company."

"Never," the mech replied softly, one hand pressed to the underside of the large chassis and emitting a cooling pulse as his thumb flexed in lazy strokes. Ironside smiled a little, listening as Optimus's systems slowed with a soft whine into recharge. The _clang_ a few minutes later wasn't hard enough to wake the sleeping Autobot, and Ironhide tapped it back. "Don't worry, little one. No one's forgotten you."

He was rewarded with silence and stillness from a body at rest.


	6. Chapter 6

Equilibrium

_Chapter Six_

Starscream has been drip-feeding us information in a bid to preserve his safety. It's a very Decepticon thing to believe that usefulness is measured and judged as a means of validation, and that it would be the same outside their ranks. But he has been telling the truth. Mirage and Ironhide destroyed the fifth Decepticon to fall victim to Starscream's admissions this morning, and this world feels a better place for it. Scorponok reportedly had no idea of what had hit him, let alone how the Autobots knew exactly which sand dune he would be hiding inside.

Aside from his willingness to co-operate, his conduct has also been unexpectedly exemplary, the only complaint raised about him being that he keeps asking when he can speak to me. It is a strange kind of certainty that I feel that he truly is defecting to us, logically compounded by doubt and suspicion but rooted in a bedrock of instinctual knowledge. Before he can be released into the base, however, I want to meet his optics and settle my last nagging concerns about his motives.

Starscream stands as I enter the brig, watching my movements with a gaze that is only predatory because it is his. That sheen of concerned watchfulness that I saw under the flyover is there as he waits for me to sit before retaking his place on the bench against the opposite wall. I wait, finding his stillness and silence unnerving, though I'm determined not to show it.

He seems thoughtful. "I have not seen a sparkling since Megatron had us wipe out the nursery on Cybertron."

Not a great start.

Starscream flexes his hands, glances at the deactivated weapons in his arms and then returns my steady gaze. "It was a senseless killing. Enjoyable but fundamentally pointless. We gained nothing but a reputation for savagery and the Autobot's rage."

"Which you'd already earned," I reply flatly, sitting back with clenched fists as I think back to that infamous attack.

A nod as if he'd expected the remark before he gestures to my chassis. "You're showing already, Prime. Megatron was right about the sparkling."

The protrusion of my chest plates is an inch at the most, and it makes me realize how closely he's scrutinising my body. I do not permit him to unsettle me though. "Is that why you're here? To assess me and report back to your Master?"

He scoffs, tipping his head back with closed optics. "Believe me, Prime, the only reason he has been my Master for so long is because I haven't managed to kill him yet."

The sparkling shifts, a recognisable warning that it will start kicking any second. I stand and walk slowly to the wall at Starscream's right, the motion rocking the small mech back into stillness. "And that's your aim now?"

Glowing red eyes track me, but he is otherwise still. "Of course."

I shake my head and fold my arms over my chest, noting the intense warmth of the central point. "Forgive me, Starscream, but I cannot imagine you as much of an improvement over Megatron in leading the Decepticons."

A half smirk as if he's simultaneously flattered by the accusation and amused at my thinking it. "Faction won't matter once Megatron is gone and the identity of the sparkling is spread."

More movement, fine cables pinching this time with it. It's rapidly running out of room in there. I walk again, disguising it as pacing. "How can you be so sure?"

Starscream slumps down a little on the bench and brings one leg across the other in exaggerated casualness. "You Autobots think yourselves so different to us, when it is only the means to our ends that differ."

I am compelled to pause at that, my mouth twisting behind the faceplate. "I wouldn't call Megatron's violent attempts to take over the universe simply a 'means to an end.'"

His bright, intelligent optics roll, vents expelling harshly. "Megatron's a mad, antiquated soldier bent less on conquest and more on eternal fighting." The Decepticon sits forwards as if to underline the gravity of his next words. "We all want the same thing, Prime: Unity. A reuniting of our species and a return to Cybertron at its best."

To hear such a pure ambition in his voice, a voice that has preceded the death and maiming of many of my Autobots, stirs something near my core. It is not pleasant and roars outwards. "I barely believe that you hold this sparkling in such high regard. How can you assume that other Decepticons would?"

"Because there is still respect for the title of Prime," Starscream shouts back, launching to his feet and coming toe-to-toe with me. My height does nothing to intimidate him. "You absorb more punishment with more grace than any other bot, and deliver a power that only a handful can come close to matching. The line of the Primes is a strong one. Respected." His face creases as if the words are a deeply reluctant admission, but he goes on. "Megatron is renowned for his strength and prowess, his ruthlessness and his unyielding command of the Decepticons for as long as you have held your title. The sparkling you bear, Prime, is a mix of legendary strength and historical significance, a warrior that will be potentially unmatched in this universe and a symbol of the unification of our differing factions."

Silence broken only by the sound of him retaking his place on the bench, waiting for my response to that. I find myself unsettled not because it is one of the most dangerous Decepticons whom has said this, but because I believe him. There's enough evidence from his willingness over the last week to back his assertion. "You seem to have given this a great deal of thought."

A flickered smirk passes across his mouth, as if pleased. "Whose idea do you think it was to make you carry in the first place?"

At my stunned silence he smirks again, though not wholly unkind. I mentally shake it off, determining it to be entirely beside the point. "Why now?"

"Because I have devoted myself to seeing him die, and if he takes that sparkling into his control, he will become unstoppable. He will have a weapon that you can never fire upon and no further use for me. Autobots run when they see my shadow across the ground, but they will find me a comforting threat against the offspring of Megatron and a Prime, twisted in cruelty and trained to never demonstrate mercy in an attack. A combination of the cunning that Megatron lacks and the savageness that you do."

There seems to be little else he can say, but I wish to be abundantly clear with him. "I cannot trust you amongst the Autobots yet."

An arched brow and something bordering on a sneer. "I didn't expect you to. I'd hoped you wouldn't, in an overdue display of common-sense."

I slide off the insult with a waved hand, feeling a growing unpleasantness in my chest. It is a mixture of a need for energon and the sparkling grasping and pressing against my parts and though this is important, I don't want to be conducting this interview for much longer because of it. "How can I be certain you have truly defected, and won't simply go back to the Decepticons at the first chance of taking command?"

He cocks his head, optics narrowing. "How many Decepticons has the information I've provided helped to destroy so far? Seven?"

"Six. Barricade managed to escape."

He spreads his hands as if it were obvious. "You think I would cripple an army by helping you destroy its best soldiers if I planned to take command of them?"

It's a valid point, admittedly. Something pinches and finally gives in my chassis, and the desire to conclude this becomes overwhelming. "What is Megatron planning?"

A pause at the sudden directness but Starscream nods, brow furrowed. "When the sparkling is due to emerge, Megatron will attack the human's nuclear facility on the East coast."

I nod, unsurprised by the blunt weapon the Decepticon leader intends to use. "And I will send a team of Autobots to stop him and keep away to birth the sparkling without risk of its capture."

Starscream raises a hand. "The Decepticons will be bringing in additional fleshling hostages for the occasion, and they will burn from the radiation once the containment walls are breached. It will be a slow carnage that you will find impossible to ignore. For your men and the humans, you will have to come." His eyes are alight with excitement and I remind myself of what he is, and how long it will take him to naturalise amongst us if that's what he truly wants. "He understands your conscience."

Unfortunately that's true. Another sharp feeling, this one morphing into a tight pain. There have been aches, pressures and the pains of kicks, but this feels different. It's unsettling and distracting. "When does he estimate the birth to be?"

Starscream cocks his head, checking an internal chronometer. "Thirteen days. He expects you to be over-burdened and helpless by that time."

Then we will pre-empt him, and I will need to speak to the human authorities before I tell my men so. "Thank you, Starscream. I will think on this."

I feel his gaze on me as I step out of the brig, waiting until the door is resealed before bringing a hand to the underside of my chassis and feeling a hot dampness. Energon coats my fingers, fine and slippery thanks to Ratchet's adjustments to its consistency. I wonder if Megatron's estimate is off.

* * *

Back to lying on the berth under Ratchet's scrutiny, Optimus wondered how he had known nothing was wrong, and if this was a indication that he'd know for sure when the time had come. When he'd come into the medbay he'd said only that he'd found a leak that needed to be repaired without considering that the sparkling may be in distress. It was still shifting around peacefully, pressing against the inside of the bundle of tubes and cables that had formed to cocoon it, which made it harder to check.

"My scans are sufficient but still aren't designed for obstetric sensitivity," Ratchet explained to the human standing on the berth at the large mech's hip. "I've repaired the puncture, but I fear that if the sparkling keeps grabbing at parts with the strength it's demonstrating that it's inevitably going to damage something important soon. I'd like you to check for stressed parts and see what can be done to move them out of harm's way."

Wearing heavy-duty overalls and welding gloves as a defence against any leaked energon still coating Optimus's internals, Mikaela's expression was steadfast. The carrying mech's calmness when he'd come in despite Ratchet's brusque fussing had eased her own mounting anxieties about the sparkling's safety, and now Optimus was quietly waiting for her to begin safeguarding his systems from the child.

Ratchet held out a human-sized handful of metallic strips to her. Mikaela ran a hand over the lightweight items, feeling ridges at one end and a slim loop at the other. "Cable ties?"

"Sort of," Ratchet replied, helping her gently onto Optimus's grill and watching as the broad chest plates began to unseal and part. "They're soluble and will snap if need be during labour. It's just to keep things away from the sparkling's prying hands for the time being. You can recognise the main neural and energon lines?"

"No problem, Ratchet." She looked up the long body to the underside of the mech's jaw, the face mask reflecting her as a smeared distortion. "Optimus, you ready?"

He pillowed an arm behind his head and shifted a little, vents sighing. "Yes, at your pace Mikaela. I trust you, and I'm sure Ratchet will guide you if you become uncertain."

Though she was small compared to Ratchet, her movements inside his chassis as she pressed and pried against the sparkling's cocoon to isolate the main feeding lines and secure them out of the way were still deeply uncomfortable. When she laid her hands on a particularly abused neural line, he hissed involuntarily and grasped at Ratchet's offered hand, struggling to remain still.

The medic glanced to him with his mouth set in a grim line, optics bright as they monitored and assessed Mikaela's progress. "Sparkbearing can be very undignified at times, but some manhandling is necessary."

"So I'm understanding," Optimus replied between gritted dental plates, frowning as Mikaela reached around deeper towards his spark casing.

Ratchet flexed his fingers around the mech's hand to draw his attention away from what was happening. "How did it go with Starscream?"

"As I'd hoped." Optimus knew perfectly well that Ratchet was trying to distract him and was grateful for it. He opened his optics to meet the medic's steady gaze. "Megatron's planning a large attack on an energy production station. I'll be speaking to the human authorities when you and Mikaela are finished here."

A low sound as his optics narrowed. "Sounds like a serious attack. You know you can't go."

Another flinch and he released Ratchet's hand to press his optics. "I fear that Megatron will be engineering it so that I have to. I need to examine the site of attack further before I can work out exactly what he's planning. There'll be a briefing shortly outlining how we are to counter it."

Mikaela extended a hand and Ratchet silently gave her a few more ties, checking over her work so far with gentle fingers before watching her resume working. "Prowl and Ironhide could probably take care of it for you."

Optimus shook his head, responding without opening his optics. "No. This is… very personal. It is an attack intended solely to bait me."

Ratchet frowned and took the bottom of the faceplate between thumb and forefinger in a rare display of assertion over Prime, forcing him to look at him. "You cannot allow yourself to be baited."

A hand came about the restraining wrist but did not remove it, the touch seeming to mean assurance rather than agitation. "I'm no stranger to pain, Ratchet, nor arduousness. Megatron will underestimate the work you've been doing for me and he shall find that I am not as helpless as he'd hoped."

A hard sigh and Ratchet withdrew his hand to rub his jaw. "I wish I had your confidence."

Optimus shifted his gaze to the ceiling, grunting as Mikaela knocked the underside of his spark casing close to the sparkling. "I hope the Autobots can be convinced of it."


	7. Chapter 7

Equilibrium

_Chapter Seven_

The refectory has been turned into a briefing room due to the sheer number of Autobots in attendance, watching my every move as I enter and cast a surveying eye over them all. There are some faces that I have only spoken to a few times who now know an unsettling amount about my personal life. If this sparkling wasn't part Decepticon, it's very likely that I could have had it without drawing much attention.

Ratchet stands from the front row of assembled chairs and tables to pointedly pull the chair at the front out for me, shooting down that idle thought. On the table in front is a stack of chips containing schematics and details of the proposed mission for everyone to take away and look over, prepared by Prowl.

The profound aching in my joints compels me to accept the chair where before I would have stood by the desk. The difference between the last stages of carrying and close to finishing is profound, but these are private complaints, trivial in this room. I address the Autobots as I always have.

"Following a week's questioning, Starscream has described Megatron's next attack. He plans to draw us out to the nuclear power station on the eastern coast. It's believed that he'll be bringing in additional hostages to make the situation impossible to ignore."

Bumblebee speaks from beside Ratchet, his hand raised a little. "Why there? He knows we can't make energon from nuclear power."

I nod at the astute query. "The location is part of the bait. An explosion inside one of the nuclear containment units would destroy Megatron, and Earth's government have agreed that the station and minimal casualties incurred are worth that price. There is a plan to transport the irradiated land into the sun afterwards."

Sunstreaker gestures for my attention this time. "We're to fire on the station to trigger a nuclear explosion and destroy the Decepticons once and for all?"

There's a loud shuffle as almost every bot in the room stirs at the thought, timed perfectly to cover the sound of the kick in my chest. I clench my fist so as not to rub it, desiring this room to see me right now as nothing other than their commander and Prime. "Rather it is to kill the snake by cutting off its head. We cannot obliterate the site."

"How do we know Starscream's telling the truth, and that he isn't just part of a plan to get us there?" Hot Rod shouts from the back, brow furrowed and optics deeply sceptical.

Prowl answers that for me from the side of the room where he is leaning against the wall, arms folded and expression cool. "We've already destroyed six Decepticons based on information he's provided. If he were just trying to get the sparkling to Megatron, there are less convoluted and self-destructive ways he could do it. More than that, Starscream continues to wish Megatron dead, which there is a good chance of achieving amongst the station's volatile substances." He returns his steady gaze to me, arching a brow for me to go on.

I wait a few seconds in silent invitation of more queries before continuing. "You will all be charged with rescuing the hostages and transporting them to a safe location. I'll get Megatron into the reactor."

There's nothing for a moment and then a sudden chorus of scraping chairs and protests. Ironhide steps forwards to project his own, breaching the gap between us as I stand. "You seriously think we're going to let you do that?"

"This is exactly what he wants, Prime! You can't go." Sunstreaker this time over the other voices.

"They're right, Optimus," Prowl adds, crossing the room to me in long strides. "Megatron only wants you exposed to take the sparkling."

"We'll go in your stead so he can't take it," Hot Rod shouts from the back of the room.

"And if you don't listen I'll have Ratchet weld you to your damn berth," Ironhide shouts at an even greater volume, the undercurrent of threat in his voice earning a few surprised looks and silence from the other bots.

His insubordination prickles but I set it aside as I turn my gaze on him, attempting to marshal this into something reasonable. "Ironhide, I'm the only one who can get Megatron inside the plant."

"With that sparkling sucking off your energy and kicking you in the cooling vents between taking shots and getting thrown around?" He steps impossibly closer into my space in his tirade, only serving to raise my hackles even more, but it's his hand pressing in a brief touch over the sparkling that really does it. "Not to mention the fact that you'll probably be in labour at the same time, leaking out lubricant, coolant and Primus knows what else as that half-bastard thing he's given you claws its way out. Fine state to be taking on the Decepticon leader, -Prime-."

The air rings in silence.

Then.

"Ironhide, my office, -now-!"


	8. Chapter 8

Equilibrium

_Chapter Eight_

On the few occasions when Optimus yelled, his smooth baritone voice sounded like thunder echoing about a dry valley. It was shatteringly terrifying in its intensity and infrequency.

* * *

My circuits actually feel like they're crackling when Ironhide shuts the door after himself. From the expressions of everyone we left in the refectory, I'm positive this end of the base has been completely evacuated. And with good reason.

Ironhide remains by the door a few strides away, and to his credit meets my stare.

"Explain yourself, soldier." I say it quietly, tempering my anger.

Now he does look away, though only for a moment. "I'm sorry, Prime. I spoke out of place."

"You spoke out of line in front of a room full of subordinates," I correct. A prickling tightness forming in my chest is not helping, the sparkling trying to grasp at cables again.

I wait for his explanation, which he seems uncharacteristically unwilling to give. He's my best soldier and oldest friend, a headstrong mech who still respects the rules. When he meets my optics again, a new emotion has captured his features.

"If you go, Optimus, you're a slagging idiot."

From his expression I've slammed him up into the wall faster than he'd expected. The bulkhead gives beneath his body, my arm pinning his weight up across his chest. He grabs my wrist but does not try to push it away. "It's exactly what Megatron wants you to do."

"You think I haven't considered that?" The wall groans, his body sinking. I hear static. "You think that just because I'm carrying that my ability to command –my- team has been compromised?"

He does shove back now, mouth twisting. "A sparkling of the enemy, Prime, who is trying to draw you out to tear it straight from your body."

I release him, turning my back and moving to put the desk between us. What he has described is precisely what I fear. "That will not happen. He is not taking this."

Rather than maintaining the safe distance I'd given him by the wall, Ironhide follows me to the desk. His stance isn't one of anger, but a desperate kind of frustration that is strange to see on him. Finally, I realise what this is. He is not questioning my ability to command. This is wholly personal – challenging me independent of the title of Prime.

His armour flares, tightening at the seams as his voice rises again. "If he cannot take it, Megatron won't allow us to have it either. It'll be raised an enemy or killed in front of you. That's why Starscream's here – he's not an idiot. He knows that this sparkling will end the war one way or the other, and he wants to be on the winning side."

"My sparkling," I bite back, my voice sounding a growl, "is not a martyr."

Ironhide shakes his head, optics darkening. "No. It's your son, but that's still not worth your life when Megatron kills you to take him from you. Because that's what it'll take, and like it or not, you –are- vulnerable, shouldn't be leading us anywhere and I cannot…"

He bites off the rest with an audible click and turns his head. I step into him before he can walk away, wanting to hear it. "Cannot what? Let me lead? Let me off this base? I am Prime, first in and last out of battle, and I am more than capable of straightening out dissent in my ranks."

His optics cast about, hands raised imploringly. "I'm not questioning your ability, Optimus."

I want to hit him but shout instead. "Then what is it, Ironhide? What is it you cannot allow me to do?"

"I can't let him rip you open again!"

He bellows it and the silence left is all the more deafening for it, though it does not last. His words start to come slowly, as if he must drag each fragment from his reluctant processor.

"I cannot… bear the thought of him tearing you apart, violating you with his hands again, pulling the sparkling away from your own spark, laughing as he does it, and having to watch helpless because that's how he'd have to make me to get that far."

We're so close I can feel the intense heat seeping from the vents in his sides, see a tremor of lost energy running through his hands following the fight stemmed entirely from fear for me. I run my hands up his arms to grip his elbows, holding him steady and summoning his downcast gaze. I finally see what this is. "It will not happen," I tell him softly, quiet enough that he must concentrate on the words. He nods, just a little.

_Clang_.

I bite back a groan at the sudden kick. The sparkling's managed to turn itself and is now positioned to kick my spark casing. It makes me think fondly on it kicking my rib struts. I bring a hand up to touch the point when there are suddenly cool hands on my chassis, a seeping chill soothing away the resounding ache. Ironhide's face is tentative and unreadable.

"Let me."

For some reason, I do.

* * *

Optimus watched Ironhide with bright optics, registering a plethora of emotions that he'd never seen before on the older mech's face. Vents mingling warm air between them, he saw something like devotion blossom as the pressure of the touch became bolder. With a hot surge he realised that it was not the devotion given to a Prime: Ironhide would look upon him with that gaze if he were still just Orion. Cool, strong hands slid with a _schlucht_ across his armour, down into the piping of his sides. With a sigh he shuttered his optics, setting aside his surprise and bewilderment completely for the sake of enjoying the soothing touch.

Ironhide watched as the Prime's face relaxed behind the mouth shield, posture slackening a little as he traced pipes, rib struts and finally the central seam of his chest. He could feel the stale heat of an overclocked engine, hear the subtle ticks and pops signalling exhaustion from an unneeded outburst after a hard enough week. Beneath his fingertips he felt a shift in the energy field of the tall mech, weariness and pain beginning to temporarily give way to something else.

Placing a hand on the desk behind him, Optimus leant against its edge to equalise their heights. The dizzying sensations searing through his body were incredible, exceptional in comparison to Ironhide's simple but experienced touch. When the split in his chassis was stroked, a gentle request, he welcomed the hands without hesitation and parted the panels.

"Prime…" It sounded reverent.

He regained himself enough to open his optics, withdrawing the shield across his jaw. "Optimus," came the gentle correction, then closed optics and hissing vents as Ironhide brushed a finger over the Matrix, then lower, almost touching his spark. Close enough to feel energy leap out to connect them, briefly, barely.

All his thoughts and concerns about Megatron's plans, Starscream's motives, the fate of the sparkling, fell away to leave one clear thought: that what he needed right now was a long, hard overload. His engine rumbled with deep throbs in agreement.

Ironhide was patient though, savouring every sound, every minute shift, the sight of raw pleasure and peace on the other mech's features. He had no intention of rushing this, touching with a fear that Optimus would stop him at any moment. Wouldn't allow this to continue.

Instead, the mech's hands reached to his hip and extended wrist, drawing him closer before sliding up to cup his face with gentle possession. Optimus brought their faces together, forehead to forehead. "How long, old friend?"

A breathless exhale of a laugh. "Too long."

A low purr of agreement before Optimus brought their mouths together, feeling blue sparks crack about the deep slash across his lips against the other warrior's. It was a slow, heady kiss, exploring and then savouring what was found. Ironhide resumed the gentle strokes, encircling the comparatively slim waist and hooking his thumbs inside the gaps between solid plates, dragging across wires with the tips as he slowly brought his hands back around. Probing past the armour to the vulnerable matter beneath, now warming with anticipation.

Optimus brought his hands to his partner's waist in a reciprocal gesture, only bolder, trying to encourage a stronger touch in return. He broke the kiss with a nip to Ironhide's jaw, head dipping lower to trace the thick cables in his neck, nipping intermittently as he stroked the surging conduits with his mouth. Reaching the joint of a broad shoulder, he pulled the body roughly against him, a hand sliding up between the broad structures of his cannons.

Ironhide uttered a stuttered groan, feeling his spark flush with energy against the vibrating heat of Optimus's chassis. Plates splitting, needy, he pressed his mouth against the exposed throat as his hands ran fervently across the strong, pliant body, lost in a myriad of sensation and want. A hand ran down to his aft, his only warning before he was tipped back towards the floor, Optimus shifting onto one knee to lay them both out, slow and gentle.

There was a brief hesitation as both mechs considered what the other wanted before sacrificing the fleeting anxiety to mounting heat, Optimus bringing his body over Ironhide's at the same time as it was pulled there. Leaning on one elbow, his hand a clenched fist above the smaller mech's head, Optimus found himself at the mercy of hands free to explore.

They'd known each other a long time, scrubbed energon and burnt dirt from nooks and gaps so many times that they knew where each others' most sensitive pockets were. It had always been grunts of pain then, parts aching from battle and circuits already hot before being scraped clear with rough, necessary force by practiced hands. At those same spots, like revisiting a favourite place in a different season, Ironhide drew out low moans and brief shudders. He felt Optimus's spark throbbing with an intensity that somehow surpassed his own, and he dimly recalled a rumour he'd heard when he'd first been assigned to the tall mech's unit: that overloading with a Prime was an intense, spark-shattering experience.

With Optimus comparatively helpless above him, Ironhide delivered firm bites along the strong jaw, hands sweeping up billowing vents to the split chassis, waiting open. Below the nova of the exposed spark chamber, though, his fingers encountered the rise of the sparkling's body, lying partitioned from his touch by a bare inch of metal.

His hand resting over the spot, cautious to move, Ironhide regarded the mech poised over him with a forced temperance on his desire. Optics closed and lips slightly parted, Optimus was obviously lost in passion, but edging the fine plates about his face were deep traces of weariness and ongoing strain. All his fans sounded to be running at full capacity, transformation cogs twitching back and forth as the connective lines spasmed, and Ironhide seriously wondered if this was even safe.

Feeling that Ironhide had stopped just shy of his spark chamber and was now lying still beneath him, Optimus opened his optics with a furrowed brow. Ironhide looked uncertain and torn, caught between his desire not to hurt him and his desire to have him. With a soft smile, Optimus traced the strong features with his available hand.

"I'm not going to break, 'Hide."

The words came from the very bottom of Optimus's voice as a liquid heat. As if to underline the assertion, Optimus pressed their splitting chests flush once more and they arched together at the teasing start of a spark merge.

It was if a dam had burst leaving no opportunity to go back and Ironhide clutched at the broad mech, not wanting a millimetre of space between them. He felt the arm Optimus was propping himself up on shake, elbow jerking back, and tipped his body to roll them first onto their sides and finally so that he was resting on top, their legs tangled haphazardly.

Optimus made an appreciative sound and bent his leg to shove Ironhide up his body, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling his mouth down for a kiss savage with want. Unable to wait anymore, and sensing from the thunderous resonance of the engine beneath him that Optimus couldn't either, Ironhide finally pressed their naked sparks together.

Shattering had been right. He'd never felt an overload like it, bowled backwards by the wave of tingling, humming energy that flared across his body and lost in the Prime's roar. It went on as if making up for lost time, lost chances, and he fleetingly wondered if it was possible for it to feel this good without meaning something deeper. As if their mingling, shuddering sparks were crying that they belonged as they cried out themselves in hard, shameless ecstasy.

The come down was drunken and prolonged, optics shuttering sluggishly as the lights dimmed to normal. Ironhide allowed himself to rest his weight totally against the body beneath him, running his fingers lazily down from the rise in the plates over the sparkling to Optimus's sides. There was nothing but holding and soft, novel touches for a long time as their vents slowed. They shifted enough for chest plates to reseal but otherwise remained flush, finding a relaxed comfort in this new closeness. Ironhide felt a piston slowing somewhere in Optimus's abdomen, the usually fluid system turning sluggish.

Ironhide brought his hands to the broad neck, running his fingers across delicate wires, pinching gently at a neural line. When Optimus hissed he soothed it with a kiss, energy fields meeting in a warm buzz between their mouth plates. Then he tasted the mech's soft grunt when the parts he was pressed against vibrated from a kick strong enough that it had to have hurt.

He smiled, easing out of his haze a little and stroking delicate ear finials. "You should be resting," he murmured against his commander's mouth, their foreheads touching.

Optimus smiled a little, weighted. He ran a thumb down the other mech's face, cupping the back of his neck possessively and tenderly in one. Another _clang_, muffled by the hum of their cooling vents and Ironhide's chassis against his own. He laughed softly, feeling at peace. "Do you feel that there's something between us?"

Ironhide laughed as well, bringing the mood into something more coherent. "I'd noticed something, yeah." A sigh and he traced his fingers over Optimus's optics as an encouragement to shutter them. "You should be resting," he repeated, now with a stronger wash of concern.

Optimus made a low sound of assent but didn't let Ironhide move away. "Rest with me," he invited, requested, urged, opening his optics and finding a pair glowing back expectantly mere inches away. "The sparkling is calmer with you here."

A slanted smile and arched brow. "What about when everyone finds out I've spent the night with you in your office?"

A lazy smile, so relaxed as to seem strange on his face, though not alien. Peacefulness suited him, Ironhide thought.

Somehow, Optimus found a way to hug the smaller mech even closer, pressing his face into his shoulder. He felt more than heard the soft sigh that was earned, smiling again at the breath. "I don't care."


	9. Chapter 9

Equilibrium

_Chapter Nine_

I wake from recharging to the chime on the door sounding, feeling warm and muzzy. Ironhide is led on his side, one hand curled beneath the rise of the sparkling and the other draped across my waist to touch my backstrut where it tends to ache the most. He's still in deep recharge, no doubt from his exertions last night, and I move from him regretful to do so. Though not as much as I now regret recharging on the floor. Primus, it's a long way up.

Kneading at the kinked wires in my back as I go, I open the door to my office to find Prowl waiting on the other side. He holds out a cube of pale energon.

"Missed you in the rec room this morning," he says as I take it, feeling a churn of hunger at the smell. He leans to look past me as I take a sip, and I suddenly realise that Ironhide is visible laying beside by desk from the doorway. "I see you two managed to work things out."

Not wanting to disturb Ironside, I step out of the office and allow the door to shut behind me. "You don't seem surprised," I comment as we walk, making our way to the operations room. Prowl's reacting as if he greets me daily at my office with a sleeping mech on the floor and the coppery aroma of interface still lingering in the air. Or perhaps he's just good at being remarkably discrete.

"So long as you're as happy as he is, I'm perfectly indifferent," he replies mildly. It's now abundantly clear that he saw this coming, or at least knew of Ironhide's feelings. Before I can ask him, Prowl gestures to my chassis. "How is your little one this morning?"

"Cramped, but content." Aside from the usual weight and pressure, I'm feeling like my old self. Ironside's ministrations were remarkably effective, and I only hope that I returned as good as I received.

Prowl makes a thoughtful sound. "It's getting close to the end, now. I think you can expect Ironhide to be hovering even more attentively for the next few days."

_Clang_.

I press over the abused spot. "I might let him. Primus, I don't understand how he's got room to do that."

"He?"

Not realising I've stopped from that kick I get us walking again, nodding around a sip of energon. "Yes, you all lost that one."

Prowl rolls his optics but is smiling, clapping a hand to my shoulder. "Can't stand to see me win anything, can you? Ah well. Here's hoping you birth in your office. I might be able to recoup my losses."

There's an amiable silence around our footfalls and I finish the energon, still finding it novel that there's no nausea to battle against. I'm going to have to get Ratchet something. I stop the thought, accepting that Prowl and I can't indulge ourselves in such levity any longer. "How did things go after I left?"

Prowl hisses through his vents with a grimace. "Mutinous, or close enough to fear for your safety."

"My safety?" I had thought that it would be Starscream first at the post.

"Wheeljack and the twins were all for sabotaging the door to your office to lock you in. When it was pointed out than an explosive device on the locking mechanism may put you at more risk than less, the proposals only become more… intricate."

I can tell from his face that it had been a very trying time deterring the Autobots. "And in the end?"

A sigh, as though Prowl's not happy with the resolution but is backing it. "You are Prime, Optimus. They'll do what you order them to and they trust your judgement. You know your limits at the moment, and we must trust you not to surpass them against the Decepticons at the risk of yourself or the sparkling."

Prowl is a strong negotiator and a remarkably tempering presence, and I've been particularly grateful to have him as my second in command over the last two months. Honestly impressed, I'm unable to keep the surprise out of my tone. "I'm surprised you got that to fly with Ratchet."

"Oh, he's got some plans for your movement servos if you try to do anything he deems unsafe," Prowl replies with a laugh. "He'd call it a well-intentioned intervention."

I stop us again for his full attention. "Thank you for your efforts. I fear I couldn't have achieved the same results at the time."

"Well of course. It's only expected for you to be a bit temperamental at the moment. Carrying a sparkling, particularly –that- one it seems, is a massive strain." I offer a look of weary disbelief at such an obvious statement, and he goes on. "Just don't expect me to try talking Ironhide into letting you go peacefully. I like my parts where they are."

"Actually we discussed it. I think I've convinced him for the most part."

A wicked grin. "So there was –some- talking last night?"

I laugh outright at his suggestive expression, bumping his arm with mine. It carries on almost in the operations room, setting my mood for the job of scrutinising schematics quite well.

* * *

Ratchet didn't get as far as I did and is now shattered across the humans he'd been carrying, their bodies burning around his dead parts and adding to the pungent black smoke that hangs over us all. I'd given him cover fire as he'd run but a flyer had torn into him in a suicidal attack whilst it punctured his body with shots. Alarms from the power station are wailing under the sounds of weapons fire and screaming.

Oh Primus, the screaming. I've never heard anything like it.

I know it's Optimus before I've climbed out of the trench bored into the concrete by my body from Blackout's blast. My Prime is on his back. His legs are destroyed and Megatron has one foot trapping the lines hanging from his torn thighs, bleeding energon at a rate he can't survive. His chest plates were open in labour but are now torn utterly asunder by Megatron's hands.

He starts laughing as I try to run, but my body doesn't obey. My cannons are empty for the first time and I cannot move.

The sparkling comes out with a keening wail, impossibly small in Megatron's clawed hands. Its umbilical cables connecting it to Optimus splinter and snap, falling across his ruined chassis with fresh sprays of fluid. It tears like paper when Megatron twists its body and pulls it apart.

Primus, the screaming. No creature should be able to make that sound. I realise I'm screaming with him as Megatron puts the barrel into his ruined chest and fires.

* * *

Ironhide jerked with hard gasps shuddering through his vents, feeling his cannons snap out already warm. Optimus was gone, the office painfully hollow now with no sign of where he'd gone or when he'd left.

Shaking off the vestiges of the nightmare, the mech got to his feet and left in a fast jog, a knot of anxiety twisting around and through his spark. It had been a dream and nothing more, he growled to himself as he forced his body to slow to a walk, though he still received odd looks from the few Autobots he passed. He stepped into the operations room with a veneer of calmness he did not feel, his roaming gaze stopping on Optimus on the far side.

The tall mech was gesturing across a schematic with Prowl, their voices serious and quiet. As if sensing Ironhide's presence, Optimus looked up and met his optics with a smile. His brow furrowed quickly, head tipped in a silent question.

Ironhide forced a smile and waved it off, backing out into the corridor when Prowl said something to make Optimus look away. Now that he'd seen for himself that his new lover was safe and unharmed, the old mech clenched his dental plates at the wild, irrational panic that had brought him here. It was ridiculous.

But it wouldn't be if Optimus led them to meet the Decepticons at the plant. He was due any day around the proposed attack, as Megatron had intended, and would be defenceless whilst labouring if it started amidst the fight. It wasn't just a matter of the sparkling being taken. Against the spark-freezing thought of Optimus dying, he found that he didn't even care about that.

The nightmarish scene played over and over in his processor as he made his way to the Medbay, relieved to find it empty except for Ratchet. The medic got to his feet at the other's expression. "What's wrong?" he snapped, urgent.

Ironhide shook his head, unable to stand still. He had to pace. "Optimus can't go. He just can't, Ratch'."

Ratchet lent back against a berth and watched the mech's furious steps. "If the end of the debacle last night is anything to go by he can. And is."

"Over-rule him then!" Ironhide bellowed, turning on the surprised mech. "Make him stay here with you."

"Didn't he shout you down enough in his office?" Ratchet snapped back, straightening against the suddenly redirected anger. "I can't stay here any more than I can make him. I need to be in the field with all the bots who are going to need a medic, just as much as you need to be there laying fire into the Decepticons. And who does that leave who could possibly stop Prime from going? Neither of us could restrain him, and definitely not without harming him in his condition."

"Deactivate his systems then!"

It was a desperate, blind grasp but Ratchet's face still twisted at the suggestion. "Oh yes, that's just the sort of thing I want to inflict on an overclocked and overtaxed body that's already struggling to maintain itself. If that's what's to happen, I may as well just put him out of his misery now."

Ironhide closed his optics and covered them with a hand trembling with agitation, finally catching himself. His head lowered and his spark hurting, he knew Ratchet was right. And there was nothing they could do.

The medic approached him with quiet steps, his face softening. "Since when could we stop Prime from doing anything he was determined to do? We just keep him safe out there. Stay with him, cover his back and see him through whatever happens."

Ironhide brought his hand down at the quiet, firm words. Meeting Ratchet's stare, he laid a hand on a pale shoulder plate. "Swear to me that whatever happens, you'll keep him alive. Even if it costs the sparkling."

Ratchet shifted. "Ironhide, he'd die for it."

"Not if I can help it."

A long silence, tense with a negotiation that couldn't be voiced. Finally Ratchet nodded fractionally, just enough to commit himself.

Ironhide squeezed the shoulder and didn't smile. "Thank you, old friend."

As the weapon's specialist was leaving, Ratchet spoke again from where he'd been left standing. "If that's what it comes down to, I'm telling him about this little talk."

The dark mech didn't break a step. "So be it."


	10. Chapter 10

Equilibrium

_Chapter Ten_

I wake hours before I had set my chronometer to do so, as I always do before a planned confrontation with the Decepticons. It's something about the quiet before the battle that is unsettling in itself, the normality of the base seeming eerie when I know we shall all be fighting later on. Even after all these years, all these battles, it's the same every time. I sleep little and walk the base, keeping out of the way of the waking Autobots as they adjust themselves to the coming events.

Today is different in a few significant ways, though. It's strange to be sharing a berth again, but not unwelcomed. Rather than getting up immediately, I find myself watching some vague point on the ceiling and listening to Ironhide. At least, what little sound there is to break the silence of his deep recharge. I watch his profile, the slight distortion of air moving out of his vents, and wondering if I could have anticipated this. We've had the closeness and camaraderie natural to fighters for so long that it's become as habitual as our armour, but somewhere along the way it's changed, it seems. For both of us. I hadn't expected to find reciprocal feelings triggered by the profession of his own, and no small part of me wonders if it's because of the sparkling. My systems instinctively latching onto a second potential parent on its behalf just as we have all been compelled to seek out others of our kind. Something we'll need to discuss, but not today. Today looks to be difficult enough as it is, lying in wait for the Decepticons to arrive and ready themselves for the attack they'd had planned for tomorrow.

Finally sliding off the berth, I slip out into the empty corridor. The base is dark and silent at this hour, only a few bots on sentry duty though Wheeljack is likely working in the lab. Ratchet will certainly be up as well. He's the same as me before a battle, wanting to make final checks before anyone else wakes and to take some quiet sort of stock of things.

I have an ulterior motive for this morning, though, sitting in the brig. Starscream was to be held until after the battle so he wouldn't have the opportunity to switch sides and betray us. Yesterday, though, I saw that he'd scratched the markings declaring him as a Decepticon from his body. A significant gesture that I can't ignore.

He's led on the bench against the wall when I step into the brig, the lights still dim. Red rings glow into being, watching me languidly as he shifts upright and swings his legs over to sit. I remain by the open door, watching him.

"Come to get some last pieces of information, Prime? I've told you everything that I can about Megatron's attack." The screeching quality of his voice is significantly lessened purely because he's not being sarcastic. His genuineness has taken some getting used to.

I clench my fists in a moment of last-minute deliberation before I simply shake my head. "No. I've come to invite you to join us in the fight. We could use your skills and your fire power."

Starscream gets to his feet slowly, optics narrowed in consideration. He comes to stand before me, looking up to meet my gaze. "You've decided to trust me?"

I wait for the sneer but there is none. "I have to," I reply simply, stepping back out into the corridor to let him out. "Go see Ratchet to have your weapons reactivated and for some energon."

Still frowning, his motions cautious, he follows me out. "Thank you, Prime."

There's a pause between us as I consider him, looking over the crude scratches on his armour where his insignia had been proudly displayed only days ago. "Do not make me regret this decision."

He lingers whilst I walk away, approaching the figures at the end of the corridor walking to meet me. Bumblebee, Sam and Mikaela stop in their tracks when Starscream grasps my arm.

"Prime."

For the first time I hear the title said seriously to get my attention, not spat from his mouth. I stop and face him again, stiffening in surprise when he puts the same hand to my chassis. His optics never leave mine. There's a flash of heat, something passing and then nothing. I step back but he follows, maintaining the contact.

"On my designation as an elite Seeker, I pledge to protect this sparkling." He doesn't smile, no trace of his usual manic expression on his features. "I can offer no greater promise, Prime."

I nod to acknowledge the formal oath. He could not say it if he did not have every intention of carrying it through. A Seeker cannot deliver such oaths and not keep them once the charge has travelled between themselves and their chosen ward. Starscream makes a soft sound, withdrawing his hand with a curt nod and walking away from me towards the Medbay.

There's no way he could have assured me more. The loyalty he demonstrates to this unborn mech far exceeds that which he has shown to Megatron, and they have worked within the same unit for millennia. Whatever happens in the battle, Starscream will be watchful to ensure the sparkling isn't harmed. Knowing the skill and intelligence of someone who'd long been a formidable enemy, I feel even more confident about its safety. Between Ironhide and the Seeker, Megatron doesn't have a chance.

"Did you see that?"

"Of course I did." Mikaela didn't look to the whispering teen, her eyes still glued on Optimus's silhouette at the end of the corridor. Starscream's outline shrank until he turned the corner, but the image of him standing before the tall mech, one hand resting against the swollen chassis, seemed to have been burned into her retinas.

Sam touched Bumblebee's shin to get his attention. "Told you so, 'Bee. Did you see that? If Starscream's not the other dad, I'll eat a trucker cap."

"For our sake I hope you're wrong," the yellow bot mumbled softly, continuing to approach Optimus when his blue optics swung onto him expectantly. "I can't see this going over well."

Running on ahead of his guardian, Sam jogged to a stop in front of Optimus's feet, offering a smile as the mech knelt down to meet his eyelevel. He rubbed the back of his neck, aiming to seem mature and astute. "So, uh, I guess Starscream's gonna be free to go around the base now, huh?"

Optics narrowed fractionally before a slight nod. "Yes, I trust that he will not betray us. I've invited him to fight alongside us today. It could be the element that swings things in our favour against Megatron."

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. What Optimus chose to do with his personal life was his business, but as a friend he wanted to be okay with it, even if it was Starscream. He hadn't handled the news of the sparkling very well in the beginning and wanted to make amends with the mech, even if he'd been assured that no such thing was needed. "You guys are sorta bonding now, right? Over your sparkling, I mean."

"He's made a promise to ensure its safety, an oath that he cannot back out of."

The teen pursed his lips and nodded, glancing to Mikaela. "I guess that kind makes sense, seeing how things are between you and all."

Optimus tipped his head a little. "Sam, I'm not quite sure what you're getting at."

Sam gave a smile and rolled his eyes. "Optimus, I totally figured it out the night we went off road."

The tall mech glanced to Bumblebee but was met with an impassive gaze. "Figured what out?"

"You and Starscream… You're, like…" A vague gesture with his hands, face scrunched.

"Sam thinks that Starscream is the second creator of your sparkling and is becoming your sparkmate," Bumblebee broke in, sorely wishing to bypass the mounting awkwardness.

Optimus rubbed his optics with a sigh and shook his head. "No, Sam, Starscream only wishes to see Megatron fall and believes that the sparkling is a way to bring that about."

"How's that work?" Mikaela asked, stepping in line with Sam.

"It's expected to be powerful."

Sam's eyes widened, tone raised. "Powerful enough to kill Megatron?"

Vents sighed as he narrowed his optics, face plates tightening together. "It is Megatron's. That is, a small part of it is."

Bumblebee made a low whistling sound and Optimus straightened on his feet.

"What were you seeking me out for?"

Mikaela answered for the nervous bot. "Sam and I want to help in the fight."

Immediately his expression hardened, and he looked to Bumblebee, ready to admonish the mech for supporting the idea at all. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

"Not to fight, Optimus," Sam called up. "To get the hostages out. They're gonna listen to other humans more than to giant robots." A shrug. "No offence."

"None taken." Prime folded his arms, addressing the humans again. "There will be a military presence accompanying us for that very reason."

"But those guys don't know you like we do. We can see what you're planning, know how to keep out from under your feet. And we've helped before, Optimus. We're not completely useless."

Optimus looked to Bumblebee. "You'll be with them?"

"Constantly, Prime. My size makes me best suited for the ins-and-outs of rescue behind the lines."

"And I can help Ratchet with causalities," Mikaela chimed in. "And with you, if need be."

"If need be," Optimus repeated quietly, the words low and gravelled. He sighed, wishing for the umpteenth time that humans had a sense of self-preservation that matched their fragility. "The civilians will be your priority after keeping yourselves safe. All of you."

Sam gave a mock salute. "We'll meet you in the hanger, then. Come on, Mikaela." He took her hand, leading her in the direction Starscream had gone.

Bumblebee watched them go before he switched into their native tongue, speaking in clicks as he touched his fingertips to Prime's chassis. He'd never seen a sparkling before, let alone one in carriage, and Optimus had been patient with his ongoing wonderment. He met the expectant gaze. "It's been discussed and agreed that, if anything should happen to you, the sparkling will be raised as you have led us."

Optimus smiled behind the faceplate. "I knew as much, Bumblebee, but thank you." He glanced after the humans, noting that they were out of earshot. "If it becomes too dangerous, you're to take them away and return to base without my direct order to do so."

"Understood, Prime. I'll make sure everyone else knows as much."

* * *

The drive to the power station takes us until noon, the sun warming my plates as the breeze slides over them. If we weren't driving as a convoy to engage the Decepticons, the atmosphere would have been pleasant. Days like this make the twins particularly hyperactive, and doubtless they'd usually be darting between everyone else and tearing through the undergrowth to flush avian wildlife out in dark, flickering clouds. As it is, they are remaining quiet in the middle of the chain, driving steadily with few words exchanged.

Sam and Mikaela are riding in Bumblebee's alt form at my insistence, overriding Sam's requests to go with me with the order that their remaining with the small mech started the second we left the hanger. They're bringing up the rear with Hot Rod and Wheeljack ahead of the human vehicles, Ratchet and Ironhide flanking me at the front. Starscream flies high overhead, instructed to land and wait for us to join him at the site.

When we arrive at the wooded border a quarter of a mile from the station's chimney's, Starscream is still flying. Transforming, we gather into teams and watch his dark form circling against the sky. The plant seems to be as normal, cars parked in large blocks and the chimneys expelling smoke at a steady rate. It 'tastes' acidic on my sensors, and I don't savour the thought of getting closer to the uranium. The radiation won't harm us, but it'll take more than a wash and wax to get rid of the residual sensory slime.

Starscream's engines are increasing in volume in his approach when I spot the police car by the plant's entrance. He voices the realisation into the comm. as I say it aloud.

"They've been waiting for us."

"You son of a glitch, Starscream!" Hot Rod shouts, raising his fist to the jet.

"He didn't know," I snap back, certain of the defector's innocence and far more concerned with how many Decepticons there seem to be down there.

There's the whine of Ironhide's cannons and dozens of mechanical shifts as the Autbots ready themselves for the charge, which in turn triggers the transformations across the site. It's a mass gathering erupting from between the parked cars and the scattered buildings about the station, jets taking to the air as Starscream tears off to engage them.

"Autobots, roll out!"

Ironhide's hand slams into me to stop me when I move forwards, snapping something that felt like it was already ready to break in my chest. His mouth is a hard line. "Not a chance, Optimus. Megatron's not even here yet from the looks of it."

I step back with gritted dental plates, watching as my men surge down to meet the Decepticons. Ironhide remains at my side, canons tracking back and forth to lay cover fire but apparently steadfast about leaving me. For the moment. When his firepower is required down there, he will go. To his statement I give him a sidelong glance. "Not yet. But he will come."

Likely at the worst possible time.


	11. Chapter 11

Equilibrium

_Chapter Eleven_

Standing on the rise overlooking the power station, my mind harks back to how Starscream described this fight would be. _Carnage._ I can think of no more fitting word to cover the scene of absolute destruction and violence taking place here. Humans are being led out in clusters, their clothing suggesting that Starscream's information about additional civilians being brought in was correct. A number of them aren't making it beyond the battle zone even with the Autobots towering alongside them.

At my side, Ironhide stands with his cannons ready and optics scouring the battle and the sky through the smoke from numerous small fires. Starscream pinwheels above us, pursued by those he called comrades only a few weeks ago. There's been no sign of Megatron yet. A pain punctures my chassis but I suppress the instinct to press a hand to it, not wanting to draw attention.

"You should be down there," I intone, giving Ironhide a sidelong glance and finding his expression as uneasy as my own. We are both torn.

He is a natural soldier, watching the others fight from the sidelines hard for him. Despite that he shakes his head. "I'm staying with you."

I turn with narrowed optics, very tempted to shove him in the right direction. "I'm fine. Ratchet wouldn't have left if it were otherwise. Just go. You'd be saving a great many lives."

A grin. "Flattery will get you everywhere." He pauses as he passes me to touch my hand, a chaste gesture stemming from the fragile thing that's been building between us over the last few days. "Stay here, alright? And call Ratchet if anything, happens."

I keep the irritation out of my voice, knowing that the concern in his isn't exaggerated. "That's my intention."

It takes him less than a minute to reach the fighting, cannons firing in a spray as if to draw as many Decepticons' attention away from the humans and other bots as possible. I shift as another explosion resonates from somewhere in the main building, finding that it takes all my will to remain where I am.

I spot Bumblebee kneeling behind a car he's lifted as a shield, sheltering a cluster of people. A Decepticon is positioning to hover at an angle above them, and I open a comm. to him. "Blackout's directly above you."

He brings the car up above his head just as Blackout opens fire, then jogs as the humans run to cross the site. There's very little I can do from here to help. Everyone is trained to function as a unit and they're upholding that now. I take a step forwards, looking for another attack that I could thwart over the comm.

From the central cooling tower a jagged shape appears in the smoke, climbing up to stand on the edge. Megatron fires a shot at my location, falling short by only a few metres. I need no further invitation, transforming into my alt form on the run to cover the distance between us as quickly as possible. One of Mikaela's cable ties snaps above the sparkling, and I sincerely hope it doesn't take the opportunity to tug on the free wiring to get my attention.

As I reach the battle site there's a roar from Starscream passing low over my head, laying down a stream of fire before spinning in a hard arc upwards. Seeing his aggressive display up close once more, I'm glad he's on our side. Quite clearly Megatron isn't, landing a ferocious shot into one wing and driving the Seeker away to shake off the hit. The Deception leader doesn't fire on me as I approach, twisting out of alt form to run the last hundred feet and climb the tower.

He watches from across the smoking pit, and I hear the whine of his cannon charging though I can't see the barrel. "Prime, you're blooming," he croons, lilting into a crackled laugh.

I produce my own weapon and leap the gap, grabbing the first part of him that I hit and pulling him backwards into the tower. The hot smoke flushes my systems, uncomfortable but not dangerous, and I return the solid punch he sends down into my thigh against his chest. In the confined space there's not room for either of us to manoeuvre, grappling and slamming each other back into the sloping walls. It's obvious he's trying to wear me down rather than injure me critically, a fighting style that I'm unused to from him.

"Leave the humans out of this, Megatron. This is between us," I bellow over the echoed sounds of impacts and weapons fire.

"Yes, Prime, it's never been so personal before," he shouts back, sacrificing a close-range shot to grab my shoulder and press me back against the wall, a fist rapidly following to meet my jaw.

Shaking off the blow, I think back to the schematics I studied once more this morning and map our location against them. A second later, I'm firing into the base of the tower and sending us crashing down into the underbelly of the station.

* * *

Ironhide was very nearly enjoying himself blasting parts off grunts whom he didn't even attempt to identify beyond their insignias. The two months since Megatron had trapped Optimus to install the infant spark had all been building towards this. The doubt that the sparkling would develop at all and necessitate this confrontation; theorising how the Decepticons would draw them out; watching Prime's degrading condition and then his steadfast, single-minded intent to face the enemy personally: it had been a lot of pressure building without a release.

Now he was taking all that stress out on Barricade's aft, redirecting the bot's attention from Hot Rod and a cluster of humans to himself. Ratchet tore past just as Barricade slammed into him, sending him back several feet though he held his ground. The nightmare scenario played at the back of his CPU, quashed by his affirmations that, for now at least, Optimus was out of harm's way and the fight was going their way. Loath as he was to admit it, Starscream was making a difference.

The rescue and retrieve mission was going well, Sam thought, with what seemed like a hundred people already off the site and climbing the hill the Autobots had all assembled on. There were a lot of people who didn't belong here, including schoolchildren, and he and Mikaela had been having a hard time stopping them from simply screaming and staring in panic at the robots to run in relays when an Autobot returned to run with them.

Bumblebee remained over the main entrance to the station and where the vast majority of hostages were pouring out, Sam darting smoothly about his feet as if knowing from how his pistons shifted where he was going to step next. The yellow mech was firing at Barricade, whom had been bearing down on Hot Rod and his clutch of humans before Ironhide had blasted into him. Seeing Sunstreaker tearing towards them, he glanced down to Mikaela.

"Next group – get ready!"

Mikaela gave him a thumbs-up before looking to the eight plant workers she'd gathered in Bumblebee's shadow, yelling over the explosions. "Alright guys, same as before but listen up. A good robot will stay with you whilst you run like hell and provide you cover. Don't worry about him or anything else – just run. Gottit? Good."

"Now guys!" Sam shouted as the proud Autobot came to a halt beside Bumblebee.

She pointed and motioned for them to go. "Just run."

They did, Sunstreaker maintaining an easy lope beside them and firing at any Decepticons passing too close whilst engaged in one-to-one combat. Halfway across the site, Hot Rod passed them on the return and raised a hand to high-five the yellow mech, a gesture met with rolled optics despite the atmosphere.

"How many more do you think, Mikaela?"

"Eight, maybe nine more runs if we can keep them going out in these size groups," she replied as she peeled her hair from across her sweat-slicked brow for the umpteenth time.

Sam clapped his hands and stepped towards the assembled, panicked mass. Bumblebee had taken out the klaxons in this area straight away, but the volume of the destruction outside still needed to be contended with. "Alright folks, who wants to live? Everyone? That's great – do exactly what we tell you, and you'll be fine."

Hot Rod was slowing to meet Bumblebee when sparks spattered from his neck, burning a line down his chassis as the heavy slugs drove him into the ground. The yellow mech charged forward to stand over him, returning fire. Rampage landed heavily in front of the plant entrance, sending the hostages cowering back whilst Sam and Mikaela's jaws went slack.

Of all the Decepticons to be caught in close-range with, Megatron aside, the undeniably psychotic crimson mech was the worst. Constantly shifting and unpredictable at every turn, Rampage seemed impervious to the pain of Bumblebee's shots as he dove into him.

* * *

It was inevitable in Ironhide's mind that Optimus was going to abandon his position on the sidelines as the savageness of the fight escalated. Not being able to take his optics off the enemy long enough to look, though, he'd been waiting for the comm. message when Starscream's shadow expanded across the ground in front of him. The Seeker swept low and transformed as he fell to land on his feet. It took a lot of willpower to ignore the instinct to train his cannons on him.

"Prime's in the field." Rapidly punched concrete forced them to duck and run as a chain of ammunition shattered a path towards them. With their backs against the crumbling shell of a security check-point, Starscream continued shouting over their mutual weapon fire. "With Megatron in the cooling towers. I heard their cannons going off a few minutes ago."

"Is he alright?"

"No fragging clue. He's –in- the tower."

Likely not if it was him and Megatron in the confined space, Ironhide decided with a frown. His bearings told him to get to him immediately, but he didn't need to look over the site again to see where he really needed to be. Optimus could take care of himself. As the mech had made a point of reminding him, he –was- Prime.

Still.

"Ratchet, get your aft to Optimus."

Ratchet's voice came back with a background of sirens and screaming. "Where is he?"

"Where's the stupidest place he could stick himself alone with Megatron?" Ironhide snarled back, suddenly on the run again with Starscream whom was covering him whilst he concentrated on the comm. If he didn't know better, he'd think that the Seeker was hovering in concern.

"… Cooling tower?"

"Get his aft out of here, Ratch'. 'Hide out." Swearing indiscriminately in Cybertronian, the mech looked to Starscream only to find him transforming again.

"I'll keep an optic out for them." The voice came out brisk from the jet before it boomed off into the smoke.

Ironhide barely had time to see which direction the defector went in before the sound of Bumblebee's electronic screaming tore at his sensors. Seeing Rampage trying to tear off one of the mech's arms eighty odd feet away, he'd started firing before he'd begun to run.

* * *

Navigating the station whilst remembering the schematics, whilst being alternately shot at and knocked by Megarton, whilst his chassis felt like it was on fire and whilst trying to figure out how to eventually get the Decepticon in the right place had rapidly turned into an unfeasible juggling act. In the end, Optimus had just run and trusted his battle-experienced CPU to feed him where he was going on a subconscious level. He'd scrutinized the schematics enough to have them ingrained on his processors.

Leading from the piping array and boiling tanks beneath the cooling towers, the two mechs had ploughed passages wide enough to bear them through the station, Megatron apparently willing to follow. They'd long passed the spent fuel pools where the used and decaying fission rods were stored, directly beneath where the hostages seemed to have been kept. The integrity of the divides protecting them from the radiation hadn't been compromised from what he'd seen, so circuits-crossed there would be no casualties later on.

Where they needed to be, Optimus knew, was one of the reactors. Reactor four, specifically, as it lay furthest from the hostages. If he could get Megatron trapped inside and then disable the safety hardware that controlled the chain reaction, the reactor would suffer a massive power excursion. After the first blast, in theory, the generated hydrogen from the accompanying steam blast would ignite ferociously, tearing the top off the reactor and exposing the core. Not technically a nuclear explosion but close enough, and if that wasn't enough to destroy Megatron, he'd already worked out how to use what was conveniently at hand to generate one. There was a good chance he'd get far enough away from the power excursion to avoid getting caught in it, but a nuclear detonation would almost certainly destroy them both. He hadn't shared those details with Ironhide, only Prowl so that the second-in-command would know what to expect.

"Eventually you're going to run out of walls to knock down, Prime," Megatron's voice howled after him, sounding far too close for his liking. "And when you do, that sparkling is mine."

* * *

Starscream rebuffed difficulties in battle with bravado, laughing off pain and set-backs to convince his opponent that he was still winning no matter what was happening at the time. It wasn't helping against the Decepticons, though, who were far too used to his tactics and techniques to let much get through their defence. He'd been taking a sound beating, but had wielded the rage it incurred to tear back with more vicious rigor than they could have predicted.

Whilst dog-fighting had its merits, his oath was to the Prime's sparkling, and by proxy the Autobots. He'd not seen Optimus or Megatron since they'd descended into the central cooling tower some time ago, and as a flier he needed to cover the ground-pounders rather than trap himself out of his element underground just to go looking. Seeing Rampage engaged in his usual vile manner with Bumblebee and Hot Rod, Starscream arced high to turn on a point and charge them straight on. As he neared, he heard the whine of Brawl's sonic guns beneath the boom of his turret before sound and shell slammed simultaneously into his left wing and sent him careening over grey sand and into the sea.

Beneath the final cooling tower, close to reactor four, Megatron stops us with a lucky shot that shatters the side of my face. The world dims with a hard wave of nausea worse than any the sparkling has delivered me, and I only realise that I'm no longer running when my body connects with the ground. With only a few seconds of distance between us, Megatron has me on my back before my optics can refocus.

"I see you've adopted Starscream into your miserable fold." Deciding I'm not dizzy enough, he punches the exposed circuitry in my face. My optics offline, and his voice becomes louder. "I hope you've been remembering to watch your back, because he will shoot you the moment you let your guard down." My vision returns in time to see him bringing the glowing barrel of his cannon to my right shoulder. "If you live long enough, that is."

He fires and has barely absorbed the recoil before his hands are on my chest plates, prying into the seams. I realise with sharp clarity that I have to abandon reactor four. I'm too damaged. I have to get him back out into the open, above ground. Defeating him without destroying him is still a victory.

Megatron mistakes my few seconds deliberation as succumbing and relaxes on me, his gaze shifting to my chassis and his weapons drifting off target. I twist to slam into him, moving his body off mine as my own systems scream with new ruptures and tears. Clawing into the ceiling, I dig and fire upwards into the base of the tower. The pipes along the ceiling leak, hiss and finally spark, the explosion carrying me through the rest of the way and turning the smoke black.

Stunned, I lie against the inside of the tower wall on a floor barely stable enough to hold me. I expel my vents over the parts of my body still on fire and run a hand across my chassis. The sparkling is jerking as if tortured, its systems panicked and seeping energon and lubricants for it.

It's dying.

I have to get to Ratchet.

I've not put my fingers into the concrete before my legs are grabbed, Megatron using my body for leverage as he climbs into the tower and onto what little there is left of the floor. In no state to fight, I make to kick him off and continue climbing, but he grabs the exposed workings of my shoulder to turn me. His body flush to mine, he holds me against the tower wall as if in an embrace. I buck, try to force him off me, but can't. My optics flicker.

"How has it been bearing my sparkling, Optimus? It feels strong. You've cared for it well, as I knew you would. Well. Up until now, that is." Megatron's never stood still in a fight before, and his voice so close to my audios is damning.

I reach as if embracing him back, prying my fingers between any gaps in his armours that I can find and tearing away handfuls of parts. He shouts and he slams me into the wall again, smashing his chest against mine. The pain's blinding, compounded when he puts the gun to my thigh and fires straight through my armour. I stumble but he holds me up. "I think it's time for the sparkling to take its leave of you," he growls, a hand sliding about my waist and then he punches up into my chassis.

I see white, feeling a gush of wetness release down my front and beginning to boil on my heated armour. The casing around the distressed sparkling breached, I feel the birth triggered. There's a flush of crackling energy through my systems, like an adrenaline surge. With renewed power, I drive Megatron down onto his back and fire shots on him as quickly as I can force them, shattering metal and workings until he slips through the burning chasm and out of sight.

My fingers embedded in the chimney to stay upright, I try to assess how much fluid I have lost. It's far too much. Hoping that it will take Megatron some time to recover and come after me, I climb.

Optimus should have been grateful when he climbed out of the cooling tower that he didn't roll down its side. As it was he'd scraped down the concrete in white agony, immediately trying to get to his feet when he reached the base but finding that his wrecked leg wouldn't support him. Pushing aside the urgent pain in his chassis, he dragged himself to a downed lamppost and tore off its casing, twisting the metal into a crude splint.

Ratchet appeared at his side as he was pinching and soldering the split energon lines in his thigh, the medic's gaze making quick work of an assessment. Glancing up along the dirty wet tracks Optimus had left down the tower, he asked, "Megatron?"

"Down, but not for long," Optimus bit back, rubbing his optics with a slick hand in an effort to refocus. He pressed the length of metal to his leg. "Just weld it, then we need to move."

Holding the limb down with his weight, Ratchet ran a welding laser through the metal to affix it. "The glorious plan to nuke Megatron fell through, did it?" he asked as he switched to an endothermic laser to cool and strengthen the bond.

"I didn't think he'd try to tear open my chest," Optimus snapped back, fists pressing into the ground as he struggled not to curl in on himself. "We need to move."

Though from looking at the Prime's split and leaking chassis Ratchet's medical opinion was to stay put, the soldier in him agreed entirely. He pulled an arm over his shoulders and helped to drag the tall mech to his feet, mouth twisting at the pained shout it elicited. The fact that Optimus was vocalising it at all was very telling.

They ran, purely because they had to, weaving a path around downed bots, civilian vehicles and flaming debris. A trail of energon followed them, though the flow was significantly less than when the lines were first breached.

When Optimus slowed, Ratchet gleaned enough from his dimming optics to render a scan unnecessary. Deciding that whatever distance they'd put between themselves and Megatron would have to be enough, he steered them around a rolled fire truck and propped Optimus against its undercarriage. Kneeling at his hip, it didn't take much of an examination for him to swear again. Stopping the leaking was the priority for both mechs.

Ratchet had barely touched him when Optimus arched with a new wave of pain. When it tapered off, he reached for his wrist. "Ratchet, get the sparkling out."

Though Ironhide's demand had been to sacrifice the sparkling to save Prime, now that he was actually looking at the labouring system and the buried mech infant, Ratchet found that he couldn't simply abide by it. At Optimus's pained request he didn't look away from his work, resolved now to sealing and pushing aside the cables that curved about the underside of the sparkling. However it remained trapped behind parts that would not move until they were ready. He shook his head, optics narrowing as he moved his hands deeper. "I can't. The umbilical lines are damaged, not retracted, and your system's holding onto him. We have to wait for you to get further along."

Optimus's vents hissed and gurgled, engine flexing as if missing a gear. "We can't. There's no time. Get him out." Clenching his fists, he concentrated on redirecting power from his failing circuitry to the sparkling, only to find the lines severed or damaged beyond use. He tried for his CPU, forcing it to process more than the pain and alarms flashing from his wrecked systems. "Ratchet, I don't care about myself. Cut him out if you have to."

"This isn't-it's still too soon," Ratchet shouted to him over a fresh round of explosions, and what sounded like another building giving way. He withdrew his hands, ropes of fluid linking them. "You have to wait."

His shout back was fuelled by a fresh wave of agony, his spark throbbing anew. "There isn't time!" Under his glare Ratchet grudgingly returned his digits to his chest, muttering inaudibly. Optimus shuttered his optics as if it would help block out the sensation, tapping into his communication array. "Ironhide, report."

"Starscream's taking a bath and Bee's down."

"How bad?"

"Slag it, Optimus - Ratchet's staying with you."

The feed cut out before he could respond, and Optimus opened his optics when he felt something finally 'give'. Ratchet's gaze met his, tight with concentration and concern. "I'm gonna try moving the Matrix, but I won't if the sparkling's in distress. How does it feel?"

He looked down at himself, mouth a grimace behind the faceplate as he focussed inwards on the other spark, throbbing so hot against his own. How did it feel?

Distressed, very obviously. It had been since Megatron had first shot him, and it had only gotten worse. But distress in itself wasn't bad for the sparkling at this point. It was bad for him – negative electrical feedback, tainted energon, more strain as his systems tried to protect it, pouring as much energy as possible into the small being to give it the best possible chance. It didn't matter for its survival how it felt, thus it didn't matter.

"Do it."

Ratchet gave a short nod. "Brace yourself for this," he warned, both hands now clutching the sides of the Matrix. He didn't need more than a few inches of clearance – just enough to make the space that the mech's body would have aligned itself to produce in a few hours if labour was left to progress naturally. Those inches were more than enough to hurt, though, and Ratchet tuned out the roar as he jerked the legendary core up and out, shifting it to reach into the space left behind. "Nearly there," he assured, a small part of him wondering which one of them he was saying it for.

"You're not… going… tell me to… push, are you?" It came out a digitised groan.

Ratchet smiled grimly, finally setting optics on the sparkling. It lay curled and soaked in energon, its spark flickering wildly in its chassis. "Actually I don't expect you to do a damn thing other than stay online. Think you can manage that?"

The sensation of Ratchet forcing his hands inside his chassis, displacing the Matrix and crushing against his spark chamber was one Optimus thought he'd still remember when he'd offlined for good. "I'll… try."

"You'd better, 'cause like slag are we raising this bot by ourselves. Alright, here he comes." With firm hands, Ratchet pulled and manipulated the fragile body through the sheared metal and snapped parts. The sparkling was smaller than he'd expected, predominantly silver with white and blue highlights. Stuttering a wail first, it opened its optics. Glowing a vivid crimson, they narrowed as it cried. "Yeah, I know kid, not the best spark day," Ratchet murmured, cradling the new mech close to his own spark as he glanced about. They were still on their own it seemed. Touching at Optimus's uninjured arm with his free hand, Ratchet clicked sharply to get his attention.

Prime had near-enough offlined towards the end, but that particular click from the medic never broached an argument and he opened his optics as instructed. The sparkling looked back at him, suddenly quiet though still fidgeting uneasily. Its hands grasped across Ratchet's armour, seeking purchase.

"Think you can hold him whilst I sort you out?" he asked, finding himself offering a weary smile to the new parent. At Prime's nod he looked to the sparkling who was beginning to garble another wail. "Yeah, quiet down, he's right here." Setting the tiny mech into Optimus's hand and against his arm, he returned his attention to the destroyed chassis, hoping Primus was feeling benevolent today.

Not overly so, it seemed, as an angular shadow appeared across them both. It was followed by the whine of a charging fusion cannon.

* * *

It had taken three Autobots and a burning fuel tank torn from a car to put down Rampage, and Ironhide had spent some time severing the mech's head just to be sure. Hot Rod had picked it up as a kind of trophy, offering his free hand to Bumblebee to help him up whilst Ironhide took in the state of things. It was mostly over. The Decepticons still in a state to move had retreated, the others collapsed in sparking heaps. The humans were all gathered on the hill, where Optimus was still pointedly missing.

"Do you think it's over?" Sam asked as he approached Ironhide's foot, squinting across the demolished parking lot and smoking buildings.

Guns still twitching over Decepticon bodies as a breeze pulled the plumes of smoke into diagonals, Ironhide's vents grumbled a sigh. "Yeah. I think it might be."

Mikaela joined the lanky teen with one arm cradled to her chest, the swelling of a sprain already distorting her wrist. On the scale of things, though, they'd both been incredibly lucky. "Is Megatron gone?"

An engine growl with a subtle reverb as Ironhide straightened and looked about again, focusing on the cooling towers. "Now that I severely…" The words died in his processor as he saw Megatron leap down from the tower, dragging a hand through a slick stain in the concrete at the base. The fusion canon rising from his arm, he moved with taut purpose. Taking a few steps forwards, Ironhide tracked his path and felt his spark freeze. Optimus was on his back, chassis wrenched apart and unknowing of the Decepticon's approach.

Not finding his voice to comm. a warning, he tracked with his cannons and flinched at their heat. The ammunition ports were warped from the heat of so much firing followed by his coolers working overtime once he'd stopped. He couldn't fire. Couldn't speak. Bumblebee saw it too, a hand raising before he broke into a staggered run.

A boom louder than any they'd heard thundered above them with a pull of air so strong that Sam and Mikaela almost fell onto their stomachs. Ironhide watched with wide optics as Starscream ploughed through the sky, trailing a ribbon of smoke from one wing and a fine mist of seawater as he raced towards Optimus. When Megatron came to a standstill over the mech, he was so fixated with his apparently assured victory that he didn't noticed the shard of expanding grey that was bearing down on him until it struck.

Starscream left Megatron's body on the other side in pieces, tumbling and flaming as he rolled into the ground and stilled some meters later. Megatron was pulled with him, landing with a sound Ironhide heard as clearly as if he were beside him. For once he was unconcerned with Megatron. His vision was tunnelled upon the prone figure Ratchet knelt over, the medic possessed enough to pay no heed to the Decepticon leader or the defector.


	12. Chapter 12

Equilibrium

_Chapter Twelve_

"Wow, he's… big." Making statements about the sparkling's size, which almost matched Mikaela's, was about the most coherent thing Sam had been able to come out with since they'd returned to the base. Sitting in the medlab, Ironhide was welding tears along his flank himself whilst Ratchet moved about Starscream. Optimus was still offline but stable on the neighbouring berth, hooked up to an energon line and cables that looked like jumper leads. The newest addition was curled in the space between his arm and chest, recharging. Sam scratched his head and looked back to the medic. "Isn't that gonna, like, scar him? Seeing his dad all banged up like that?"

Ratchet shook his head without looking back from the wing he was manipulating whilst Mikaela eased cables out of the way, taping off the split casings. "The mechling needs to be close to his sire's spark to recharge effectively. That is its sole way of knowing it is safe at the moment. It'd be more damaging to part them prematurely. Mikaela, remove those cogs. They'll have to be completely refabricated."

Forcing a body to transform out of its alt mode whilst heavily damaged was tricky work, and Ratchet was quietly appreciative that Starscream was staying unconscious without any assistance from him. Whilst he provided the brute strength required to force plates around Mikaela was doing the small-scale work, prying apart and cutting away parts that had melted beyond repair or were simply fused.

"I can't believe he survived ploughing into Megatron like this," she breathed, rubbing the back of a welding glove to her forehead as Ratchet twisted the jet's air intakes forwards, up and then back to free the wings entirely from their locks.

"No, I didn't think he'd make it back to the base." Starscream's wings had taken the brunt of the damage, buckling and twisting back as they had connected with Megatron's near-unmovable innards. He'd spent the last hour beating them flat and now folded up the flaps, pulling one wing out and upending it before repeating the process on the other side. The result looked even more like a scorched and mangled jet, but equally more like a mech. "The tail next, Mikaela. Cut through where the lines have fused so we can free his legs."

Sam left Optimus's side to watch them work, having never seen a transformation done in such slow steps before. The parts rotating, swivelling, backing onto themselves and tucking away into compartments looked painful, and he was freshly amazed at how easy they all made it look. Of course, Starscream's transformation was going far from easy, and Ratchet hadn't even begun to start on the repairs made impossible by the jet's form. "You think he's going to be okay?"

Ratchet nodded with a grunt, jerking at one half of the jet's tail to see how far it was stuck. "So far, yes. He's a tough Autobot."

The significance of those words did not go unnoticed, Mikaela smiling into blackened parts with renewed respect for the sacrifice that this body had almost made. Had been willing to make. Sam frowned a little, having spent more than one night kept awake with nightmares of Starscream bearing down on him in the Camero, laughing manically as he fired.

Optimus trusted him, though. Sam moved back to the enormous mech, his chassis still thickly coated with dry energon and lubricants. "When's Optimus going to wake up?"

"Not before tomorrow night, at best. The birthing sequence was broken so his systems are still trying to feed energon and protect the sparkling," Ratchet replied over the sound of a microlaser's whine. "I've set him to reboot so his lines figure themselves out again and start processing it for himself rather than breaking it down for junior there. Everything else can wait until that's done, and for when I'm finished with this hulking pile of scrap."

"Has the sparkling got a name yet?" Mikaela's voice rang out from under Starscream's extended air brake, just above his dented pelvis.

"Prime offlined a few minutes after seeing it, and he didn't tell me of any he'd considered."

They slipped into silence aside from Ratchet's murmured instructions and the sound of metal creaking. An hour passed almost without notice, Sam engrossing himself in helping the medic in whatever way he could, even if that was largely just passing tools and clearing away damaged components. Eventually the medic sent the humans away to sleep.

Still sitting at the far wall, Ironhide watched Optimus's still form with one optic as he idled with the welding kit. Usually his patches were quick and functional, the lacking fineness of a medic meaning his armour was left scarred until it was eventually totalled and replaced. In truth he preferred it that way. Though the number of battles he'd been in had gone well into triple figures, he felt that some evidence of every fight should remain. Honouring the dead by leaving something to show that what had killed them happened.

It rattled his bearings seeing Optimus left in such a state whilst Ratchet attended to Starscream. His opinion of the apparently defected Decepticon had gone up a micron for what he'd done, but he still didn't trust him. Doubted if he ever would. It had made it sting doubly that Ratchet and Mikaela were working so hard on him whilst their leader's chest plates were barely closed.

"Have you a more serious repair job keeping you here that I should be looking at?"

Ratchet's voice snapped him out of his dark reverie, seeing the medic wiping off his hands with a rag as he approached to check his work. "No Ratcht', think I'm about done."

Tapping on the welds, Ratchet made a low sound. "Up to your usual standard. You can go."

Ironhide slid off the berth. "Is there anything I can do for Prime?"

The medic's optics narrowed. "I'm trying to get people out of my medbay, not have them clogging around my berths."

Gritted dentals Ironhide moved to Optimus's side anyway. "Can it, Ratch'. You're the one who's left him lying like this to nurse Screamer."

"Prime is stable, Starscream is far from it," Ratchet snapped back, rounding the berth so that the unconscious mech lay as an island between them. Ironhide didn't budge, fists tight at his sides. Ratchet clicked and rolled his optics again. "Fine. You can clean him up for me. Cleansing wipes are over there. Try not to disturb the sparkling."

Megatron's sparking, Ironhide clarified to himself as he fetched the sealed container of chemical smelling wipes. He stood on the far side of Optimus's body to the thing, finally dragging his stare away to ease apart the broad chassis.

Energon was leaking out sluggishly, the lack of pressure suggesting that it was only what was left in the umbilical lines. He pinched them off as deep into the mech's body as he could reach and withdrew them, starting a slippery pile on the berth. It took a while to weed out what had been the sparkling's nest, during which Ratchet had finished the last stages of Starscream's transformation sequence and started repairing the damage.

Indifferent to the sight, Ironhide mopped out the fluids left behind, taking great care around the spark casing. The light within in was strengthening, and he couldn't help but smile as he remembered what its energy had felt like merging with his own. When he was satisfied that the internals were clean, he coaxed the chassis plates closed again and took up a fresh wad of wipes to get the burnt energon out of Optimus's grill. A digital chitter paused his hands, and he looked up to see the sparkling staring at him with wide, crimson optics.

"Would have the fragger's eyes, wouldn't you," he growled under his vents, returning his gaze to his work. He froze completely when a small hand wrapped around his finger, the grip surprisingly strong. Another round of chirps, identical to the happy babbles Bumblebee used to make. Ironhide watched the sparkling with the same sceptical consideration he would bestow a new opponent.

The next bleeps were from the berth's monitors, and the body the two mechs were meeting over shifted. Ratchet appeared as if instantaneously summoned, running a wrist sensor in a quick sweep. "He's waking up."

"Is he going to be in pain?"

A brief flicker of surprise at the question. "Unlikely. He's going to be pretty much out of it until tomorrow." Touching a digit to the back of the sparkling's neck, he offered the little mech a smile. "Slightly better circumstances this time, mechling." The soft look evaporated as he switched his stare back to Ironhide. "I have to get back to work. Don't keep him awake, or I –will- throw you out."

The sparkling fell silent as Optimus's optics flickered into a constant, dim light. "'Hide?" As he said it, a hand came up and knocked the waiting mech's side.

Ironhide slipped his thumb into the palm, his fingers closing gently. "Right here," he assured at an equal volume. "And everyone's alright before you start asking. Sam and Mikaela didn't go squish, Bee has both his arms and the Twins still have their damn vocal processors."

A silence as Optimus seemed to process that, the mechanisms visible between his armour listing as if nearly drained of all power. Suddenly they jerked together, the equivalent of a heart skipping a beat. The hand gripped harder. "The sparkling. Ironhide, I can't feel-"

"It's alright," the old mech soothed quickly, desperate to get that haunted look out of Optimus's optics. "It's right here, see?"

His other arm wouldn't move due to the shattered shoulder, and Ironhide reluctantly released Optimus's good hand after scooping the sparkling up onto the charred chassis. As Optimus cupped his hand against its body it squeaked and chirped, hugging at the digits with a little wiggle of pleasure. Optimus felt that his spark would implode, or something equally dramatic, as he looked upon the little mech he had made and carried with bright optics. "Hello little one. Welcome to the world."

Ironhide shifted minutely at the display, but enough for Optimus to notice. "You don't like him." He said it lightly without a trace of disappointment, still watching the sparkling explore his fingers with its hands and mouth.

Wondering if that easiness was damage-induced or if Optimus was simply being patient because he'd already decided in his mind which one of them he would love if he had to choose, Ironhide shook his head. A hard sigh passed through his vents as he thought over what to say to that. He wouldn't lie, but he wouldn't say that Megatron's spawn resulting from a near-rape overjoyed him either. In the end, he settled for simple saying, "It's his eyes."

Optimus made a soft sound. "They're only a colour, Ironhide. He's no more Decepticon than I."

"But Megatron-" He cut himself off, closing his optics. Even before that night in Prime's office he'd known that this would be difficult. It had been from the second he found out from Ratchet. It had kept him from recharge many nights, wondering if he could accept something he loathed to have a chance to stay with Optimus. He looked at it and saw Megatron, saw the state his Prime had been in after dragging him out of the collapsed building, felt anew the pangs he'd felt when Optimus had suffered from it being in his body. Feeding off of him.

Sensing Optimus's gaze on him, he met it braced for a rebuke. The let down. Instead, the mech smiled. "Megatron only contributed the start of a spark. Nothing more. I completed it from my own, and it grew from parts it took from me. It's made of me." A wry sort of smile. "And a sparkling this cute can't be tainted."

The pressure in Ironhide's system had eased at the apt words, and he looked between sire and sparkling again. Optimus welcomed it. It brought him joy like none he'd seen before. He felt his face plates shift a little into a smile as he offered his finger back to the little mech, finding it grabbed immediately. "Well… He is cute."

A muzzy purr of agreement, Optimus's optics flickering. "Tempest. Tempest is cute."

Ironhide nodded with something closer to a grin. "Something I can shorten to Pest. I like it."

A disapproving rumble rolled from the slowing engine, the hand about the sparkling falling lax. Ironhide touched his shoulder. "Rest, Prime. I'll take care of him for you."

A weak smile before the mech corrected, "Optimus." His optics dimmed offline seconds later and Tempest chirped quizzically.

Ironhide abruptly found the sparkling pushed into his arms. Ratchet nodded to the door. "Go introduce him to the others and give him some low grade. I'm sealing the bay off until tomorrow night so these two can rest. I'll call you if anything changes."

The mech regarded the sparkling hugging at the plates over his spark, a smile forming as he carried it out. "Come on, Pest. I'm gonna show you which bots you wanna purge on."


	13. Chapter 13

Equilibrium

_Chapter 13_

Sam had to admit it: if it weren't for the crimson eyes, he could have sworn that the sparkling was Ironhide's. The mech had yet to let him go, allowing the cluster of bots in the rec room to look and fuss but not allowing anyone to actually hold him. Tempest seemed to be thoroughly enjoying all the attention, clicking senselessly and grasping at the many hands offered to him.

"What do you think of his name?" Mikaela asked from his side, leaning into his embrace. She'd been feeling distinctively broody since she'd first seen the new addition several hours ago.

"It's alright," Sam replied, mercifully unaware of Mikaela's hormonal flush. "I was hoping he'd call it something really cool, though. Like Razor or Coldsteel."

Mikaela smirked. "I don't think that's Optimus's style. And Tempest is cool… Very like Optimus, actually. You know it's a Shakespeare play?"

Sam rolled his eyes at the topic of literature, preferring the storm and military connotations of the name. "Wonder how he's doing. Reckon we'd be able to sneak in and see him?"

Prowl answered from above them, making both humans jump where they were sat. "Not yet. Ratchet's not letting anyone near him until tomorrow."

He nodded, offering Mikaela a half shrug as if the suggestion had been hers. "Seems fair. Getting that out whilst getting shot and having the crap beaten out of you by Megatron is harsh, even for the big guy."

A low rumble of agreement from the tactician, though it was a warm sound. Almost appreciative. Now that Optimus was safely within their care and the sparkling was out and healthy, the burning anxiety that had been constant base-wide since news of its conception had spread was finally gone.

Seeing Ironhide approaching, Prowl gestured to the teens. "Ironhide, the humans haven't seen the mechling yet."

Optics sliding down to them, Ironhide grinned and knelt obligingly, easing Tempest off his chest and holding him out on the floor. "These are the squishy ones, Pest. No breaking." Sat unsteadily, the mech chattered at them with wide optics, reaching out to touch the novel creatures.

Sam looked up at the old mech, nose crinkled. "He, uh, won't break me if I let him grab me, will he?"

A low chuckle. "Nah, he'll just pull you about a bit. This size, Pest's about as strong as you are."

"Nice nickname," Prowl drawled, folding his arms. He watched with a small smile as Ironhide's hands hovered until the sparkling had grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt and begun fussing his hair with a low whistle. To his surprise the old mech stood, posture matching his own as they watched. "You've come around to him, I see."

Ironhide grunted an affirmative. "Optimus and I had a talk."

Prowl arched a brow, wondering how that went. "Sounds like it was a good talk."

A shoulder joint rolled. "Yeah, think so. He still…" A grimace as he cut himself off from saying too much and giving away his still-blossoming relationship with Prime.

The tactician didn't try to hide his smile, clapping a firm hand to Ironhide's back. "It's alright, 'Hide, I already knew. And he's happy. Happier than he's been in long while."

Ironhide gave him a sideways look and a thin smile. "You see far too much sometimes, Prowler."

Prowl ignored the nickname, figuring that Tempest's was worse. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't."

A _schlucht _sound as Ironhide ran a hand across his throat, thoughtful. "Everyone likes the kid," he observed quietly, his tone hovering between relief and plain acknowledgement.

"Yes, I'd say they were all quite enamoured. Bumblebee especially." Prowl looked over to the small mech and smiled, noting the look of near-jealousy as Tempest fussed about Sam and Mikaela. "I think you and Optimus have a very willing sparkling-sitter there."

The easy expression on Ironhide's worn face slipped a little, his mouth tightening. "I'm sure that all the Autobots will be looking out for him. Especially with Starscream lurking around."

Prowl frowned and stepped in closer to the taller mech, his voice low for the sake of the other bots. It was noisy with chatter about Tempest, but he still didn't want to be overheard. "'Hide, Starscream nearly died to protect the sparkling."

Ironhide grunted and shook his head. "He was trying to take out Megatron."

The tactician suppressed a scoff that would have been very unlike him. He'd seen the Seeker plough into the Decepticon at a fearsome velocity. Most of them had, and they were all equally surprised and impressed that Starscream had survived it. "If he was just trying to destroy Megatron there are infinitely better ways he could have gone about it. He didn't seek him out in the battle – he provided cover fire, was our presence in the sky against the other Seekers, and he took his fair share of damage before his suicidal run." He regarded Tempest again, babbling and grasping at the humans completely oblivious to how troublesome his coming had been. "I watched Starscream when he pulled that move. It was desperate. He covered the site as fast as he could and hit Megatron as hard as he could, fully willing to sacrifice himself."

He saw Ironhide meeting his optics in a sideline stare and arched a brow. "He won't hurt that sparkling, and I pity anyone who tries to immensely for what he'd do to them."

Quite obviously Ironhide wasn't to be so easily convinced, though he nodded to accept Prowl's point. "It's gonna be a long time before I can trust him. We've been fighting him for too long, seeing his as Megatron's biggest gun in a battle. Right now he could be just out to protect Tempest, yeah, but it could be to get our guard down so he can turn on us down the line." He raised a hand, optics shuttering. "Or he could really be joining our side, in which case he's going to be a damn fine asset if his performance at the power station was anything to go by."

There was a clunk at their feet and they saw Tempest trying to pull himself up on Ironhide's foot, failing utterly but enjoying the attempt. The old mech stooped to pick him up, earning a delighted flurry of bleeps and whistles.

Prowl offered a hand out to the sparkling against Ironhide's chest, smiling when his index finger was batted at. "Sounds like you need to have another talk with Optimus."

A gentle sigh pushed through his vents as Ironhide regarded the comparatively tiny bot, untouched by their war and so full of life. Tempest brimmed with potential, both for himself and for their collective futures. It was possible that Starscream saw things the same way. Finally he could see why Optimus had fought so hard to keep him. "I reckon you're right."

* * *

I wake again still in the Medbay to find Starscream in the berth alongside mine, also hooked up to an energon feed and smelling of fresh welds. He is awake and looking at the ceiling. The lights are dim and a red light above the door indicates that it's locked from the outside – Ratchet's way of 'encouraging' recharge.

Shifting a little to see what hurts, I still again when the consensus from my systems is 'a lot'. My chassis throbs in time with my spark in a warm ache, and I can 'taste' the acidic trace of painkillers. Running my fingers over the welds and dents on my chest plates, I'm immensely grateful for them, though I'm still very aware of the difference inside.

Starscream voice comes suddenly, soft and even. "Now that my usefulness has expired, will you be exiling me?"

I look to him but his stare remains on the ceiling. "You're welcome to stay with the Autobots, Starscream. Even if you hadn't earned it that would still be the case."

Silence but for the sounds of the machines, then, "the sparkling has red optics."

Beautiful ones. "I know."

"Like a Decepticon."

A pause I didn't intend. "I know."

Another pause and then he turns his head to look at me. "Hatchet said he could change them."

Of course he did, I acknowledge with a sigh. "That won't be necessary."

Starscream frowns and tries to sit up, instantly giving up with a hiss. I don't remember much after seeing Megatron, but I remember that the Seeker didn't emerge from the other side of him shaped like a jet. Even with pain suppressants he's in significantly more discomfort than myself. "Why? It'd help him fit in. Naturalise."

I arch a brow. "Are you going to change your optics?"

A scoff, reassuringly familiar from him. "No."

"Because it is part of who you are. My point stands." I know that though Tempest will not be treated any differently because of it by my men, primarily out of a respect to me, this is something I will still have to propagate. "He is part Decepticon, and I will not have him ashamed of his parentage by disguising it."

Starscream shakes his head. "You're…" He trails off with a bemused smile, brows furrowed as he looks back to the ceiling. "Going to take some getting used to."

I smile at that, returning my own gaze to the dark ceiling. "Yes, I imagine you'll find life under my leadership to be quite different to Megtron's."

A snorted laugh.

He ought to be recharging given the extent of the repairs he's required. I suspect that the only reason he was awake was because of the concern that I would make him leave, though I doubt he'd admit that. The very opposite is true. I'm grateful to him, for the pledge he has made and upheld to Tempest, almost at the cost of his life, and would be regretful if he chose to leave the Autobots. "Thank you, Starscream, for everything you've done."

I hear him shrug and wince from it, a pained wheeze in his voice. "I made an oath."

"Does it continue on from the sparkling's birth?"

"Of course." It comes flat and matter-of-fact.

I nod a little. "Then you'll be the sparkling's closest link to its Decepticon heritage."

He shifts again, looking across the energon lines to me. "Not necessarily something to be proud of."

There's a lot of truth in that, the associated atrocities of Decepticons in summary. But they began as only a faction with different beliefs, and before then we were all united. Entire galaxies have perished since that time, but it is still a concrete memory of peace. "Megatron was not always this way."

Starscream's voice lowers, adopting a harsher quality as if in warning. "He'll never change, you know."

"You did."

He rolls his optics and stares up at the ceiling again. Ratchet should think about putting something to look at up there. "That's different."

Genuinely curious by that, I ask, "how so?"

The Seeker raises a hand and seems to inspect his fingers, thumbing new scratches. "I'm not so deluded that I'm not open to the idea of being wrong."

"You see your years spent with the Decepticons as a decision made in error?"

His arm lowers again. "No, it was the right thing then as this is the right thing now."

"Do you think any others will defect to us?"

"I couldn't say yet. Possibly, when the sparkling is older."

A hard sigh through my abused vents. "I do not like the significance and responsibility that he's been burdened with since before he was born."

"Well, tough," he drawls with a glower at me. "You had the same thing being groomed to be Prime."

I frown back. "I was much older when I had these responsibilities put onto me. The Matrix changed me."

His optics widen and I note that condescension suits his face just as well as sadistic delight. "So give the sparkling the freedom to develop. You Autobots are nothing if not sickeningly friendly."

Though I wouldn't have phrased it like that, I know he's right. "You make a good point."

"Of course I do." His tone is utterly deadpan.

"You're…" I smile, returning my gaze to the ceiling. "Also going to take some getting used to, Starscream."

"Don't worry, Prime," he replies with a smirk, pillowing his arms behind his head. "I'll keep things interesting for you."

"Of that I have no doubt."

* * *

When Ratchet deemed Optimus fit enough to leave the Medbay, the mech found exactly what he wanted to see first on the other side of the door already waiting. Tempest lay in the crook of Ironhide's right arm, batting a small cannon to make it turn with a broad smile.

Coming to stand beside him, Optimus furrowed his brow at the display. Ironhide shrugged. "It's not like it's loaded. He just likes spinning the barrel."

A vaguely disapproving sound and the tall mech ran a hand up the other's back, smiling with the naturalness of it. He hadn't realised it before the battle at the power station, but there was something very comforting and relaxing about being in Ironhide's presence. Even though they'd only been sharing a berth for a week and interfaced just once, though memorably, he found he'd missed the mech's more personal presence. Seeing him with Tempest warmed his systems.

Tempest looked up from the mini-cannon to his sire and made a shrill sort of sound, grasping his hands out. Optimus took him gladly, lifting him to his optics. "Have you been good for Ironhide, Tempest?" The sparkling clicked, optics wide as he wiggled a little in the large hands. "Did he now? Well, I'll have to have a word with him in my office."

Ironhide grinned at that, watching as Tempest was settled between Optimus's arm and chassis before getting them walking towards what had become their shared quarters. "No office for a few days. Ratchet's put you on light duty, which equates to reading and letting Prowl and me do the running of the place."

"I'm sure that between you both you'll find a way to keep the base intact," he replied smoothly, not looking up from Tempest as they walked. This was the first time he hadn't begrudged Ratchet's orders for rest, and he found it odd not to be immediately scheming ways to get around the medic to work.

"How's Screamer?" Ironhide asked, purely out of a weird sense of obligation.

"Alive," Optimus replied with a quick glance, surprised by the question. He'd made no secret of his dislike and distrust of the Seek, though it was understandable. He hoped that the older mech would come around eventually, otherwise Tempest's relationship with Starscream was going to make things difficult. "Ratchet's going to keep him in for at least a week due to the extent of his repairs. He's lucky to be alive."

Ironhide grunted, thumbing the code into the keypad and letting Optimus step through into 'their' quarters. "He's sticking around with us, then?"

"He hasn't given himself a choice," Optimus replied evenly, running a hand through the assorted data pads on his desk to see if anything urgent lay in their midst.

"Yeah, suppose that doing what he did to Megatron does seal off his chances of rejoining the Decepticons."

"True, though it's more complicated than that," came the soft reply as Prime leaned against the desk to regard Ironhide, the sparkling mouthing energetically at his hand. Extended a fuel line from the filter beneath his chassis, he slipped the end port to the hungry mouth and started a gentle flow of fuel. He'd worried about not knowing what to do after Tempest onlined, particularly since he'd felt completely out of his depth from the very start. But there seemed to be some instinctual guiding force – something fundamental that knew how to nurture just as he knew how to fight. It surprised him to find it, but it was a relief.

Ironhide lingered in the sparse living area before stepping through into the berthroom, scanning over the contents with a smile. Bumblebee and Prowl had been here yesterday seeing up for Tempest under his supervision. There was a small berth with raised sides at the end of the large one, and a weighty mobile hung above it. Layered on the ends of the iridescent wires were models of each of the Autobots' alt forms, painted by Sam and Mikaela to match exactly. There was also a plush bear on the berth – the biggest the humans could find. Where they couldn't give parts to welcome Tempest, they'd said, they had given gifts that a new baby would receive in their culture. They hadn't known what to get Optimus, but had taken his advice to see Jazz about some High Grade.

When Optimus didn't follow to see the waiting surprise, Ironhide returned to the other room to find Prime reading through pads whilst Tempest fed. Coming to his side, he was pleased to see a trace of guilt. "Am I going to have to think of something to distract you?" he asked, folding his arms.

Optimus sighed, glanced away briefly to Tempest as if coming to a decision and finally looked back. "There's something you need to know about Starscream."

Ironhide felt his fluids run cold. "What?"

A pause as Optimus considered his words, thumbing the sparkling's stomach absently as he watched Ironhide's face. "Before we went to the power station, he exchanged a charge with Tempest. A Seeker's oath. He appointed himself as a guardian. That's why he attacked Megatron as he did."

The Seekers were a funny breed, Ironhide knew, with latent abilities that meandered between fact and fiction in the telling. This particular oath he'd heard of before, and it was more reassuring than anything else Starscream could have done. It was not a possessive claim, nor one that granted any rights. It was selfless and poignant, particularly coming from such a fearsome warrior.

"He can't hurt him," he clarified for himself aloud, touching a finger to Tempest's cheek and smiling a little when the two little hands snapped possessively around the fuel line in his mouth, crimson optics narrowing.

"Not intentionally. And he can't sit idly by if Tempest is threatened."

"What about you? As his sire?"

Blinked optics and he shook his head. "It only extends to Tempest."

Ironhide shook his head with a sigh, shifting to lean beside Optimus against the desk. "Why? Why tie himself down and make himself vulnerable like that?"

Optimus had spent a long time wondering the same thing. It was no simple declaration of guardianship Starscream had made to Tempest. It was a binding that went down to his circuits, a lifelong commitment matched only by a creators' to their offspring. "For the same reason why all the bots are celebrating: we need something to protect. It's a fundamental part of our processors. With the war, there have been no sparklings for a long time. No future generation. Nothing to fight for, except to fight on the behalf of those who cannot defend themselves against Megatron. Our Cybertron is lost to us and can never come back. It's the future we fight for now, and Starscream believes, as I do, that that future lies within the generation born separate from the outbreak of this war. And they are worth anything to be protected."

There was silence but for the sound of Tempest's soft chirps around the fuel line, optics blinking sluggishly as he eased towards recharge. Optimus cut off the flow and waited until the residual energon had been drawn through before taking the feeding line back. Tempest squirmed a little before nuzzling against his chassis, optics shuttering and mouth slightly open.

Ironhide watched without realising that he'd leaned into the taller mech, their bodies moulding against each other and vents mingling warm air. "So," he began with an arched brow. "Ratch' is gonna have us all knocked up with sparklings now?"

A disapproving sound though there was an obvious smile behind it. "Hardly. But there are bonded couples amongst our ranks who may want them, and there's no reason why we shouldn't."

"If you can, then they can."

Optimus nodded and looked up from the slumbering sparkling to meet the bright optics watching him. "And the war has been a constant for so long, it doesn't even factor into it anymore."

There were a lot of questions lingering, many of them concerned solely with the occupants of this room. Ironhide shifted a little, uncertain. "So what does this all mean? For Screamer, and…" An awkward motion with one hand, the word coming as unfamiliar and very cautious territory. "Us?"

Sighing a little, Optimus regarded the older mech with a tempered smile before running a hand up Ironhide's backstrut to the fine wires in the nape of his neck. Knowledgeable fingers wove between stiff cables to stroke a cluster of neural lines, earning a low, murmured sigh. He continued his ministrations as he spoke. "Well, when you and I want a night alone, we've got a guaranteed sparkling sitter who cannot do anything no matter how uncontrollable Tempest might be."

Ironhide's engine seemed to purr in response. "I like the sound of that."

"I thought you might."

* * *

I sincerely hope you enjoyed this story. I'd love to hear what you thought, and don't forget to check out the sequel _Provenance_.


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